


17 Days in Vancouver

by beadslut



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 2010 Vancouver Olympics AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beadslut/pseuds/beadslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The head of Olympic facilities Medical Staff, Jensen Ackles, treats downed ski jumper Christian Kane, and becomes very interested in his friend, downhill specialist, Jared Padalecki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

Jensen stood on the steps and breathed in through his nose to feel the sting of cold air in his sinuses. He could see a hill full of people watching the qualifying jumps on the normal hill, and the Opening Ceremonies were this evening. Now that the Games were here and all the preparation was complete, he was glad he'd taken the Olympic job. It was almost like a vacation from his sports medicine practice, even if he included the medical staff wrangling. He shrugged on the paramedic's jacket he'd be wearing outside the office, grabbed his medical pack, and walked to the landing area to take a look around.

The 90 meter hill was the only event this morning; almost all of the competitors had completed their qualifying jumps. The crowd chanted "USA! USA!" as another flier left the inrun for his trip down. He hit the take off ramp cleanly and flew. Jensen didn't know much about ski jumping except the damage a bad landing could do. Torn ligaments, sprained muscles, damaged joints, that was what Dr. Ackles saw in his office, so seeing the jump itself took his breath away. This was a good landing, well beyond the K line, a fair distance.

Standing at the exit from the run up where the fliers caught the lift back up the hill, Jensen watched as people in the crowd thumped the flier on the back, saw him take off his skis and then crumple. It was second nature; Jensen grabbed his pack and ran. Security held back onlookers and trainers ran from the opposite side. Jensen called for an ambulance on his radio, then knelt and ran a practiced eye over the man who hadn't moved again. None of his limbs were twisted, there were no obvious injuries, and he began the routine immobilization procedure. Behind him, a security guard's voice sounded urgent. "No, sir, you don't have the proper credential. Let the medical people work, now. Sir! Sir!"

Jensen stripped off his gloves and felt the downed athlete's face. He was burning up, sweating profusely. His eyes flew open and Jensen was startled by the fever-glazed blue, bright as the sky above them.

"Cold, man, I'm so cold. Not hurt, just cold." muttered the man.

"Okay, work with me. What's your name?" Jensen asked as he pulled an arctic foil blanket from his pack and tucked it around the man. The day wasn't particularly cold, mid-20's, and dressed as he was, he shouldn't have been cold.

"Chris. I'm Chris Kane."

Jensen ran through the symptoms and what he'd observed in his head as the rest of his team securely strapped the man to a backboard while the ambulance pulled as close as it could to their position.

“I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to step away,” he heard from the same security guard. Jensen turned to give a brief glance to what was going on behind him. The woman was speaking to a very tall man, whose tags identified him as an athlete, wearing a neon green cabled earflap hat.

“No, I have to... he’s my…” the man paused, fumbling for words, while entreating the woman with puppy dog eyes.

Chris looked in the direction of the tall man's voice, even though he couldn't move his head.

Jensen grimaced at the situation. He knew ‘training buddy’ wouldn’t get the guy past the woman in the yellow jacket and ‘roommate’ just meant they were in the same dorm. He wouldn’t be able to claim coach or family, since he was credentialed as an athlete. Jensen wondered what the men were to one another. He waited through the pause, and didn’t really smile, but his face softened, and he addressed the earnest young athlete. “Yeah, I got ya. C’mon over here.” He might be jumping to conclusions, but he could be sure his patient could have someone near him that cared enough about him to take on three formidable security guards. As soon as they allowed him through, the young man dropped to his knees and grabbed Chris's hand, careful not to jostle him. He looked apprehensively at the plastic collar as he murmured his thanks without looking up. Jensen patted him on the shoulder, then called out, “Lift on three, one, two…”

The new addition rose with them and scrambled into the ambulance, talking quietly to the man on the stretcher. Jensen noticed someone with a camera hovering and put himself directly in the path of their lens. He’d seen enough sensational photos of accident scenes to turn his stomach. The man with the camera could try to push past him, but he was already climbing in, and the ambulance doors slammed shut behind him. “Can you hear me?” His patient's eyelashes fluttered. “I'm Jensen. I need you to hold still. You're gonna be okay.” He ran his hands over the stretchered man's limbs and still didn't feel anything out of place. Stripping off his parka, he tossed it into a corner of the ambulance so he could work unencumbered. The taller man shed his outerwear as well, and Jensen absently noted his broad shoulders and trim waist. He lifted his gaze for reassurance, and Jensen felt his breath catch. His eyes were the sea -- blue then green, every shade between. The thermometer beeped and drew his attention back to his patient. It said 106, and Jensen's brow furrowed. Much higher than that, and they were in seizure and brain damage territory.

"Where to, boss?" asked the driver, over her shoulder.

"Whistler Med. That's our default." He looked at the tall man. "They have a great sports medicine staff and an MRI unit," he said, though he thought this wasn't likely to be an injury. "I'm starting a saline IV, we need to get his temp down." He glanced back to the monitors. "What's your name?" asked Jensen, over his shoulder as he stripped the foil blanket off.

"I'm Jared. He's Chris."

"You been together long?" he asked.

"Since we were kids, man. "

"Your ..." he searched for a word. Friend worked, he thought. "Friend, has he been sick?"

"Runny nose yesterday, Dammit, what's wrong with him? He was fine on the landing!"

"He has an extremely high temp, there are no obvious injuries. I want to get him out of his gear to take a closer look, but protocol says we need to keep him immobilized. Usually that means cutting him out of his suit." He gestured with his scissors. "My driver needs to call in the vitals."

"No," said the man on the stretcher. "It's custom made and costs the earth. Need it for jumping."

"Buddy, you're not jumping any more today," said Jared. "Is it Meninger? They'll send you another overnight. You're in the goddamned Olympics."

"Your team has better funding, Jay. This one's mine. Don't cut it. Please. 'm not hurt."

Jensen knew a flyer's suit was important as well as expensive. He cut the bib strings, and put the number aside, in case it was wanted later. When he slid the zipper down, he knew there was no reason to worry about immobilization. Heat was coming off the man in waves, and his thermals were soaked through.

"Mika, call ahead. I'm sure this is flu. I'm taking the flying suit off. My authority."

"You got it, boss."

* * *

_"In a stunning turn of events, Team USA's star ski jumper collapsed this morning after his preliminary jump. Norway's Bjorn Bjorn Bjorn leads qualifying after the first round."_

* * *

  
At the medical center, the crew eased the stretcher out of the ambulance.

Jensen and his team gave the information they'd collected to the hospital staff and prepared to go back to the slopes.

"Jared?"

The tall man looked mournfully into the distance where the doors had closed behind his friend.

Jensen resisted the urge to snap his fingers, and Jared finally blinked.

"Look, do you have a cell?"

Jared looked confused. "Of course."

"Give it."

Jensen punched his number into the contacts list. "I have to go back, but I'm pretty sure Chris has the flu. He motioned at Jared's credentials. "You call your coach and tell him where you are. With luck, I won't need to bring anyone else down, but you call me when he's settled, okay?"

Jared nodded. "Thanks man, for everything. Chris... He's all the family I have."

"Been there, dude. You call me, okay?" He figured Jared would forget, but he's done his best to reassure him.

* * *

_"Bob, Team USA stood a chance of getting at least one athlete into the final round this morning, but with Chris Kane's collapse, it's starting to look less likely. Our best wishes are with him, of course, and now, we're back to the slopes."_

* * *

  
Jensen sighed. He's been back up to the hill and down again, this time with a heavy older man, whose language he doesn't speak. The man was terrified. His credential said he was a Bratislavian coach. The man had experienced a cardiac incident when his flier didn't make the finals. On the good side, the man was stable and Jensen's shift had formally ended while he was checking the coach in, although he was on call for the entirety of the Games.

Once the coach was transferred to the hospital staff, he checked his messages. Jared had called, and Jensen listened to the soft voice thanking him for his help. Jensen leaned over the admissions desk and asked, "Abby, the guy we brought down earlier, Chris? What's his room number?"

She smiled softly. "418, Dr. Ackles." He thought Abby was way too smart.

Jensen went back to the ambulance that the crew was stocking, and reached inside. He stuffed the hat Jared had left in the pocket of his jacket, freeing up his hands to carry Chris's flying suit, and the bag of get well gifts the fans had left on the jump hill, and took the stairs to the 4th floor.

In moments he was upstairs and grinning at the sight of Chris in a hospital gown. He was on an IV, but clearly feeling better, and gesticulating wildly at Jared.

"You gotta, Jay, it might be your only one."

"Hey, " he offered.

Jared grinned at him, all white teeth and dimples, and Jensen thought Chris was a lucky man. "Chris, you remember Jensen from the ambulance?"

Chris looked at him, considering. "Maybe."

"I'm Jensen Ackles."

"Christian Kane, but you probably already know that. That's Jared Padalecki, in case you didn't see him when you walked in, him being all petite."

Jared made a face at Chris and turned to Jensen. "Chris is trying to talk me into going to opening ceremonies."

"You should go. I hear it's going to be spectacular. Most people only get to go to one Games, you don't want to miss it."

Chris nodded. "Exactly. You missed Torino, go, be there, take video, do it for me."

"No way, man, I'm not leaving you alone to wallow in your flu-like misery."

Jensen thought for a minute. He knew, the whole world knew, how much the ceremony was supposed to mean, how hard the athletes worked to get here, how seriously most of them took their oath. "I'll stay. You go enjoy it for all of us, and we'll watch you on tv." He gestured at the screen in the corner.

Jared blinked at him. "You don't even know us, dude. I can't impose on you like that."

"It's the Olympics. Go. Walk. Represent. Say the words. We'll be fine, won't we?"

Chris flashed him a grin, and turned to Jared. "Go, dude."

Jared still hesitated.

"Go, dude!" insisted Chris.

Jared put his hands up in surrender. "Going, going."

"And then you go back to the Village. I'll be fine, probably sleeping, and you have to ski tomorrow."

"Chris..."

"Get!"

Jensen nodded, and Jared dialed his phone. "Jeff? I'll be there. What?! That's so cool. If you bring my uniform, I can change on the bus."

He gave a last look at Chris, man-hugged Jensen with a soft "Thanks, man," and loped out the door.

Jensen thought they might not be into pdas.

Chris laid back on the pillows, and closed his eyes. Jensen wondered if he was intruding, maybe Chris wanted to be alone in his disappointment over missing the competition, or maybe something else was wrong.

"Sometimes," Chris said, dragging a hand over his forehead, "It's damned exhausting to be in the same room with the sasquatch."

Jensen smiled. "I can see that. I'm really sorry about your competition."

Chris waved a hand. "Normal hill isn't my specialty. Large hill is, and I have six days to get it together. Think I can be ready?"

Jensen nodded. "This flu is bad, but you stay hydrated and do what the docs tell you. Six days is not unrealistic."

"I hope Jared doesn't get it."

"When were you last... intimate?"

Chris choked on his laughter. "Nah, me and Jay, it's not like that."

Jensen tipped his head. "Oh? This morning, he... well, no, he only implied it."

"Jay and I are all the family either of us has, man."

Jensen let out a breath, and gave himself permission to think about a Jared who was not Chris's partner. He felt himself begin to flush, so he dissembled. "I, uh, brought you this bag of stuff. People were bringing it to the volunteers at the jumping hill for you. Lots of teddy bears, some notes and other things. Thought you might like to have it."

"Oh man, that's so sweet. Embarrassing as whoa, but sweet. What am I gonna do with stuffed bears?"

"If you want, I'll pull the cards off the ones that have them."

"Gimme half. You know, there has to be someplace that needs teddy bears."

"The police will take them in a heartbeat. They have a program for kids ... you know, who might need a teddy bear?"

"I'd like to do that. Too much of that goin' around."

Both men were silent for a moment.

A knock on the door heralded Chris's dinner tray. The food services worker grinned to see Jensen. "Dr Ackles! New star patient?"

"My first of the Games, Ellie."

"Can I bring you a tray?"

"Is there blue jello?"

She grinned. "I'll bring the usual, then, shall I?"

Chris looked appraisingly at Jensen. "Dr. Ackles, is it?"

"To you, it's Jensen."

"I really appreciate what you did for me. For Jared, too. He thinks you hung the moon."

Jensen ducked his head, trying not to think about Jared. "Just my job. Keeping you," he waved one hand at the window, trying to make the words less about Chris and more about the huge number of potential injuries running amock over the Olympic village, "healthy."

"So, what do you do when it's NOT the Olympics?"

"I'm a partner in a sports medicine practice here in Whistler." Jensen drawled. Years and miles from home and it still came out when he was tired.

"Dude! You're from Texas! What're you doin' here?"

"Ah, long story. Went to school in Vancouver, been here ever since."

Ellie tapped the door, entered and handed Jensen a plastic wrapped sandwich and a single serve container of jello with an indulgent smile, and a separately wrapped pickle. He and Chris ate in companionable silence.

* * *

_"Jim, the Parade of Nations is about to start after an amazing show from VACOM. Team Canada will be walking in last as the host country, and here we begin with Greece."_

* * *

  
On the television, they watched Jordan's flag go by, carried by a speed skater in a burqa. "Wish I had popcorn. "

"Wish I had a beer."

"You get a nice cold saline bag instead, how's that? You don't do the training regimen?"

"Hell, yeah. We just don't get crazy about it. The figure skaters, man, those guys are nuts. You should see Jay eat. We've been asked to leave buffets."

They laughed. Jensen thought he'd maybe made a friend, maybe two.

* * *

_"Here's the 216 member delegation from the United States." (The sound of the crowd chanting "USA! USA!" was audible in background.) "Our experts tell us that we have an outside chance at nine gold medals in these Games."_

_"There's the Ski Team, and Steve, look, they're all wearing Kaniac buttons in honor of Chris Kane who collapsed today at the ski jump. US Ski officials tell us that Kane is resting comfortably. Although he is in the hospital tonight, we hope to see him out at Callaghan Valley later this week for the Large Hill jumping."_

_"In addition, the ski jumping teams from the US, Norway, Germany, France, Austria, Italy, Switzerland and Slovenia are sporting pink badges, in support of their women's teams who were denied the opportunity to participate by the IOC. Look, Bill, the Finnish delegation and the Slovenians are also wearing the buttons. We're told a total of 21 countries will participate in ski jumping this Olympics."_

* * *

  
Jensen looked at Chris whose hands cover his face. "They didn't have to do that."

"Looks like they wanted to." He looked away so Chris could scrub his hands over his eyes. "You look beat. I'll be in to check on you tomorrow. For now, I'll leave you to it, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. So, what... where else will you be tomorrow?"

"I'm in the office at the Olympic Park in the morning, then wherever they need me. I'm on call for the Games."

"Jared skis the downhill tomorrow," offered Chris. "It's a good event for him, but his strength is really the slalom."

"I'll try to get over there, then. Fun to cheer for someone you know."

"Can I tell him you'll be there?"

"Well, if you think he'd care."

"I told you, dude, he thinks you hung the moon."

Jensen just shook his head with a smile. "Goodnight, Chris."

It was only a few blocks to his house, Jensen studied the night sky and the dark of the moon as he walked. He thought he'd better familiarize himself with his work, and laughed at his whimsy. Jensen Ackles, MD, _I Hung the Moon_. That would look good on his business card. He checked his email, voicemail and schedule, then turned in, asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow. He dreamed of a full moon, shining on a sea the same color as Jared's eyes.


	2. Day 2

Jared wakes up at 5:30.  He stretches, too tall for the bed, as usual.  The room is too quiet, and he remembers that Chris is in the hospital.  He reaches for his phone to call the nurse's station just as it starts to ring.  It's a local number he doesn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Get your lazy sasquatch ass out of bed.  The nurses here are too busy to talk to you, and you gotta go ski."

Jared smiles at Chris's voice, he sounds so much better.  "What're you doin' today?"

"Layin' here on my back, watching video, watchin' you ski if you ever get out of bed."

"I'm gettin', I'm gettin'.  How ... did you have ... was Jensen okay last night?"

"Yeah.  He's a good guy.  Aren't you glad you went?  We watched you cry at the oath."

"Wasn't cryin'."

"Yeah, I know, but it's a moment, isn't it?  You were on camera for a lot of it.  Remember what Jeff said, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah.  I gotta get in the shower.  I'll call you later."

* * *

_"Todd, give us a quick recap of the downhill."_ __

___"Be happy to, Tim.  A typical downhill course begins at or near the top of the mountain on a piste that is closed off to the public and groomed specially for the race. Water or salt are often spread throughout the course to ensure that it gets icy, which inhibits dangerous rutting of the course, but also increases speed. Gates are quite far apart, but not out of sight from each other."_

* * *

Jared starts down the line in the cafeteria, and one of the servers nudges the other. She smiles happily at him, heaping food on his plate, and slipping a package of red licorice onto his tray.  He grins his thanks and sits down with Colin. The youngster has a breakfast of carbs, and Jared grimaces, but you eat whatever works best for you. He's got eggs and ham and a quart of milk, and Colin makes a face at it. Jared misses coffee, but he never drinks it before a run. He nods at Kurt, sitting with the German team for now, but as everyone starts to wake up, they drift to their usual social groups.  The World Cup regulars compete together, travel together, and practically live in each others pockets for most of the ski season.  They share partners and lodgings, but they never forget they are competitors.

Colin taps Jared's licorice.  "This on the diet?"

"It is on mine.  Talk to Jeff."

"How's your friend?  Chris is it?"

"I talked to him this morning, he sounds way better.  I'll tell him you asked."

The ski jumpers were almost never in the same place with the alpine skiers, and Jared misses Chris something fierce.  They had opted to room together once they made the team, since they were rarely at the house they shared in Park City at the same time. This was supposed to be a dream day for them, both of them in medal events.  He shakes off the distraction, and takes the stairs two at a time, snagging his duffle to catch the first ride to the hill.  He needs to be sure he has the right wax on his skis today.

* * *

" _Tim, Whistler Creekside will host both men's and ladies' alpine skiing events at the 2010 Olympic Winter Games._ __

 ___The men's downhill slope is located on the newly designed Dave Murray Downhill course on Whistler Mountain, named for the late Canadian alpine skier who competed in the Lake Placid 1980 Olympic Winter Games where he finished 10th in the downhill."_

_"That's right, Todd, the course is designed to challenge the best skiers in a variety of tasks: skiing at high speeds over ice, through difficult turns, extreme steeps, flats, and huge airs. A good course will have all these elements in it, as well as some jumps intended to challenge and thrill both the racer and the spectators."_

* * *

Most of the skiers strength train, some of them for flexibility.  Jared likes to mix in some yoga, for the flexibility and the way it clears his mind.  Today, he's having a little trouble with that.  His mind is on the skiing, on the downhill, on the course, and on the paramedic who treated Chris yesterday.  The tuners have tossed him out of the shack, and Jeff growled at him to concentrate.  He does, for a minute.  He's drawn a great number, he'll go third from last, and will have a very good idea of the time he has to beat.  The beeping of the start gate is comforting in the background, and the big screen shows the skiers gone before him.  He tries to settle into yoga breathing, and gives it up as a bad idea.  So is pacing.  He needs to settle, so he makes his ritual call to Chris.

"Jared, settle down. He's at the bottom of the hill."

"Huh?"

"Jensen.  His schedule today.  He's at the bottom of the Alpine hill.  Your hill."

Jared smiles, Chris really understands how to motivate him, better than he does himself.

"I'm up in five."

"Go fast, you'll see him quicker."

"Yeah."

"Jared!"

"Chris?"

"Go get him.  Don't break anything."

"Nah."

"Heart either."

"No, mom."

"Don't forget to stay in your tuck."

Jared laughs and hangs up.  He hands his phone to Jeff, and nods.  "I got this."

"Bag of gummi frogs if you do." promises his coach.   

Jared grins at him.  It's the Olympics and Jensen's at the bottom of the hill.  The gummi frogs are as good as his.

* * *

_"The 'downhill' discipline involves the highest speeds and therefore the greatest risks of all the alpine events. Racers on a typical international-level course will exceed speeds of 130 kilometers per hour (80 mph) and on some courses, speeds of up to 150 km/h (93 mph) in certain sections are expected. Competing in the downhill event requires of racers considerable strength and technical expertise.  Speeds on the Murray course are predicted to be near 90 mph in some sections."_

  
_"Right, Todd.  Team USA's only real hope in this event is Jared Padalecki.  His best events are the slaloms.  Evan, it's quite unusual that Padalecki's even qualified for the downhill, but he's plenty strong enough to hold the course. What do you hear on the slope?"_

* * *

  
*beep, beep, beep* sounds the prompt.  Jared breaks the timing gate and starts his descent. 

He starts down the little pitch, and follows the rolling hill around the waterfall turns and over a bit of terrain. It drops down there, and he picks up speed.  A little jump carries him across some flats up toward the toilet bowl where everything flushes down into the big bowl at the bottom and shoots him to the left. After that, the sweeping right-hander drops him into the weasel, where he drops down two gates at a pretty steep angle, and then the ground falls away.  Tuck, he reminds himself.  Stay in the tuck!  The sweeping left turns into the sewer that funnels down into coaches' corner.  He sees a blur of people standing there, then into a sweeping right turn.  Then has to squint, even through his goggles, and knows if there's sun there's ice and there is ice, and he needs to have a care as he picks up speed because that 180-degree turn that takes him back to where the slalom hill starts, that's coming.  If he's judged the angle right, it will make all the difference.  A few more sweeping turns and the last jump, "Tuck, dammit, Jared", and Jensen at the bottom.  1:58:2 flashes the clock as he crosses the time line.

At the bottom, Jared starts to search the crowd, he sees Jensen looking his way.  They lock eyes and Jensen mouths "Holy shit!"  Jared yells "Jen!" and it's only a second later that he gets an armful of French biathlete in return. Genevieve is one of his best friends, and he is happy to see her, she's laughing and hugging him, he picks her up, hell, he's hugging anyone in his orbit.  Before he can do anything but take off his skis and mug for the cameras, before he has the chance to go to Jensen, Hermann Schneeundeiss misjudges the last jump, and comes down in a tangle of poles and skis. 

 

Jensen and his team have him off the course and in the ambulance in moments, and the Austrian team is in shock and disarray.  The USA ski minders jockey for position with the television networks, and they herd him away to the media tent, he can't do any worse than silver.

One more skier to go.  Jared wins by 5 tenths, a ridiculous margin.  He wants Chris, he wants Jensen, but Jensen is on his way down the hill in the ambulance with the Austrian skier, Chris is already in the hospital, and Jeff takes him away to do media.  Gen's done with practice so she tags along to keep him company.  After the medal ceremony that  night,  he gives Genevieve the bouquet, partly to say thank you, because really, what's he going to do with it?  They hug, which means he picks her up off the ground, and her legs wrap his waist, like they've hugged hundreds of times.  They are friends, after all, and the media loves it.  He's blinded by the flashing cameras.

* * *

_US Ski's Jared Padalecki brought home an unexpected medal in the men's downhill today, and Sandy, it was Gold!_ __

___That's right, Tim.  I was at Whistler Blackcomb this morning to see him cross the finish line.  We expect Jared in our studios later this evening, along with his gold medal._

* * *

Jared's done interview after interview.  He's glad he has company, Genevieve's with him, and it's easy to grin happily into the camera, making quiet, snarky remarks to her.  If the reporters are drawing the wrong conclusion, well, Jeff will be happy that he's presenting as hetero-normative, taking one for the team he doesn't bat for.  By the time he's done with Costas, the gummi frogs are all gone, and Gen's handed him yet another beer. He thinks it's a good idea to call Jensen. 

* * *

_Our late night coverage of the 2010 Games in Vancouver continues, and Sandy McCoy wants to know if romance is brewing for USA's unexpected downhill gold medalist Jared Padalecki and French biathlete, Genevieve Cortese._

* * *

Everyone in Vancouver wants to buy him a drink. He's taken most of them up on it. Jared's glad he has Jensen's number programmed, because he'd never be able to actually dial it.

The phone rings once, and Jensen picks up.  "Hey man, congratulations.  I'm just watching you on TV. Everyone's talking about it, I think you broke youtube."

"Jensen, I am so drunk."

Jensen laughs, and Jared soaks up the rich sound.  "You sure sound like it, and you earned it.  Great run."

Jared knows he sounds petulant.  "I just wanted to get down the hill to see you.  Wanted to...  Shit, Jeff's coming to get me for something else.  Can I call you again?"

"What do ... You can, sure.  If you want."

"I really do."

"Get some sleep.  Drink a lot of water. We can talk later."

"Not my first rodeo.  We will, okay?  Talk later?"

Jeff appears next to him and raises an eyebrow.  "I got it, I got it.  No kitchen window.  Jen, I gotta go."

He hangs up and pastes on his best smile for the photographers. He wishes he was still on the phone with Jensen, who is so damned hot.

Who would think a gold medal could screw up his love life? 

 


	3. Day 3

Genevieve knows she's skiing well, and she's clean on the shooting.  She may loathe the sprint, but she uses that emotion to fuel her because she loves the pursuit and her finishing spot here will dictate her starting position in the that race.  She's left it all on the course when she crosses the finish line, falls to her knees and gasps for air with a time of 20:07:03.

\---------------------------------------  
 _"The sprint is 7.5 kilometres (4.7 mi). The biathlete shoots twice, once prone and once standing, for a total of 10 shots. For each miss, a penalty loop of 150 m must be skied before the race can be continued. As in the individual competition, the biathletes start in intervals."_

 _"Mike, the Germans are always favorites in biathalon events, but the French have brought a really solid team."  
_ \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Genevieve is 4th, just after Heidi Shootandski, out of the medals, but it's her personal best so she's happy.  She sees Jared is in the stands, and thinks it's unfair that he doesn't look even slightly hung over.  She skis over to him, and he picks her up, ducks her rifle and plants one on her, like he's done at every event he's seen her ski in, no matter where she places. Over his shoulder, she sees one of the paramedics watching them.  Jared said a lot of things yesterday, while they went from interview to interview, and he went from beer to beer. That has to be the guy he was talking about.  He's just as gorgeous as Jared said he was, and the expression on his face tells her he has no idea how into him Jared is.

That makes her feel guilty about yesterday's Sports Illustrated photo shoot.  Jared was posed bare chested, ripped and wearing his medal. She knows she was wearing a camisole, but she's seen the photo and knows it looks like she's naked and draped over his shoulder to admire it, with the fall of her hair making it look intimate.  She likes Jared a lot, it's not like that with them, but they are awfully photogenic.

She knows the minute Jared sees him, knows just how bad he's got it, when she hears him call, "Jen!"  She also knows she's way behind on her turn to be a friend.

The paramedic looks up and Jared lopes towards him, towing her in his wake, and while she has shed her skis, her rifle is still bouncing on her back.  Jared's in snow boots, but she's in ski boots and she skids.

"Hi!" Jared says, and stops abruptly, snaking an arm around Gen to keep her from falling.  "This is my friend Genevieve Cortese, French biathlon team. Gen, this is Jensen Ackles.

"Jared!" Gen chides him, and slugs him, hard, in the arm. "I am very pleased to meet you, Jensen."

Jensen looks bewildered.

"Look, there's a party at French House tonight," she blurts.  "Not for me, although this _is_ my personal best time, but I would like you to come, to celebrate with me."

"Um?" asks Jensen.

"It is plain to me that Gen and Jen are two different people.  It should be plain to you," she pokes Jensen in the chest, "as well."

"Gen..." begins Jared.

"Oh, Jared, let me guess.  The media," she gestures around them, "can't tell J from G, and Jeff said The Word."

"I.. we're friends, Gen. "

“Seriously?” she asks. Jared looks confused.  

"We each know what the other likes.  Jensen should find that out as well.  Now, let us go face the media, as we are required to."  She snuggles into Jared as the flash of a camera goes off, and she hauls his head down for a kiss. She smiles at Jensen.  "Please, ignore this circus, come if you are able.  I know your duties may keep you away, but Jared would really like you to come."  

She sees heat in the glance Jared gives Jensen.

"I am... delighted to accept your invitation.  Mlle. Cortese," Jensen says with just a little hesitation, and Gen thinks he's at least got a clue.

"Call me Gen, Jen.  All things will become clear in time." 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
 _"You're seeing live feed from the party at French House this evening.  Many of the World Cup athletes live in Europe where most of the major competitions take place, and the guest list is filled with Olympic hopefuls, including the USA's downhill medalist, Jared Padalecki, seen here at the event with Genevieve Cortese, who skiied a personal best in Biathlon sprint today."  
_ \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Genevieve makes it very clear to the doorman at French House that it's important to her that Jensen be welcomed, and that someone needs to tell her when he arrives. It turns out she doesn't need to be told.  She can see her teammates scent fresh blood, introducing themselves, and checking him out. She knows what they think of her, that they will imply that she may not be the town bicycle, but she is a party girl, who can pretty much tell you what's in the bedside drawer of everyone on ski team, and not just the boys. It's a reputation she's cultivated carefully.  At her side, Jared sees him and goes still.  Gen finishes her champagne, and tows Jared along with her, for a change.  She kisses Jensen soundly in welcome, and knows he sees the mischief in her eyes when she pulls back.  "You're good for him.  Hurt him and I will shriek at you at length, in public, in several  languages." 

"Gen, there's nothing -- " begins Jared.

"There will be.  Unless you're both idiots."  Stepping back to look at them, she smiles fondly.  "You're not, are you?  Idiots, I mean."


	4. Day 4

"What I'm saying, " said Jeff, "Is that the Giant Slalom course is already treacherous, and if the skiing federation insists on icing the course, there will be serious, possibly catastrophic, injuries."

"Coach Morgan, your concern is appreciated and noted.  I will advise you of the federation's decision."

Jeff sighs in frustration.  He's sure that he's not the last alpine coach to have this conversation, he only hopes someone will listen.

Hearing familiar laughter behind him, Jeff turns in time to see Jared talking with another man who is wearing an paramedic jacket.  Jeff's known Jared for a very long time, would have said he knew his every mood, but this was a new one.  "So you went to medical school, instead of taking the modeling job."

"Yeah, and I've been here ever since, and he's a big star.  Look, get your coat if you're going to tag along, ' cause it's time for me to get to sliding." says the smaller man.  "Hey, here's the hat you left in the ambulance." 

"You keep it, Jensen," says Jared. "I have a rainbow of them, and that one matches your incredibly sophisticated jacket, anyway.

"At least mine doesn't have a pony." teases Jensen. 

Jeff turns back to the VACOM official.  "Who was that paramedic?"

The woman smiles.  "That was Dr. Ackles.  He's head of our medical staff here, for Whistler venues."

"A paramedic?"

"Oh, he's a hands on guy, and the best Sports Medicine doc on the west coast.  Plus, a really good guy."

Jeff tilts his head and considers.  "Thanks for your help."

In the coach's area, Jeff finds himself drawn into a discussion with the Swiss ski coach, who has also filed a protest with VACOM regarding the GS course.  Jeff gets him a beer, and they lean companionably against the bleachers, watching the women's luge competition.  The gasp of the crowd brings it home to Jeff that the television coverage is on a short delay, because he sees medical personnel running up the stairs of the luge track before there is any indication on the television screen that something may have gone wrong.

The news travels through the crowd, one of the competitors didn't make it all the way down the track.  Television coverage has changed over to pairs skating as reporters scramble to find out what's going on.  Jeff looks around to see if there's someone he can ask when he sees Jared standing alone.  He excuses himself and walks over to him.  

"You o--" he begins to ask, when Jared waves him quiet.  Jeff sees he's holding a radio, and raises an eyebrow.

"Jensen's up there. They don't know how it happened yet, but there's a pretty bad wreck."

Jeff can hear the radio chatter, a lot of technical information is being relayed in a calm, firm voice.  He can also hear sobbing in the background.

"Alan, find out who this woman is.  Bib number is 724.  When you're done there, call David Knight in Seattle.  The number is in the red contacts book right above the base station microphone."

"Boss, she's Rosario Trinea, from Ecuador."

Jeff hears him speak the woman's name, and continue on in musical Spanish.

"He's telling her they're going to get her down the track, that he's got her, that..."  Jared trails off, his eyes wide.

"Boss, I have David Knight on the line."

Jared and Jeff hear a scream, and then a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. "Get me off this fucking track!"

"Great, you speak English.  I've got ... David?"

"I'm here, Jensen what do you have?"

I have Rosario Trineo, who is one brave lady.  Her knee is crushed, the sled runner pierced the joint, and twisted.  We have the bleeding controlled, I'm thinking you're the only guy I want working on her."

"Of course I speak English, I went to Dartmouth!"  There is a groan, and she sobs, "Christ, it hurts!"

Another voice says "Morphine, Dr. Ackles?"

"David, I can medivac her to you."

"I'll get an OR.  See you soon."  There is a click, and Jensen begins to speak again.  "Alan, did you hear that?"

"Got it boss.  Called for medivac already, they expect to be here in ten minutes."

"Coordinate with Seattle, please.  I want her in the air before we medicate."

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"Ambulance is at the bottom of the run waiting for you."

"Okay.  We're sliding her down in a controlled descent, just like we practiced.  I want a gurney at the outrun, and so help me, not a photographer in sight.  The TV people are gonna be there, but no vultures."

"Got it boss.  Landing area canvas has been dropped."  
  
In minutes, the ambulance has driven away to the helipad, and the helicopter has taken off into the night.

* * *

 _"Duncan, what do you have from the luge track?"_

 _"Bob, we've had an accident, here at women's luge.  Ecuadorian slider Rosario Trinea's been taken by helicopter for treatment.  At the moment the course is closed, we're not sure if it was a problem with the course, the luger herself, or the sled, but Lewis has more from the outrun."_

 _"Duncan, Bob, Trinea was medivacced with a serious leg injury.  We know the head of Whistler's Olympic Medical Staff is with her in the helicopter.  NBC analysts are reviewing the footage of the accident, we hope to know more soon."_

 _"Bob, VANOC officials are telling us there are no problems with the course, and that the event will resume in just a few minutes."_

* * *

  
Jared stares at the radio, which gives a soft click.  "Jared?"  Jeff sees him swallow hard and thumb the talk button.

"I'm here.  What can I do?"

"I know we had plans..."

"It's fine Jen.  What can I do to help?"

"I'm in the medivac.  Can you take the radio back to base?  I'll call you later."

"Sure.  Take care of her."

"'s my job.  You get your ass to bed and ski the pants off the damned mountain tomorrow."

"G'night, Jen."

There is another soft click

"Thanks, Alan.  I'll call from Seattle.  Jared's bringing the radio back."

"It happens just that fast." Jared says quietly.

Jeff's not sure if he's talking about the accident or something else entirely.  They walk back to the offices, and he waits for Jared to return the radio.  They catch the athlete's bus, and ride back to the Village in comfortable silence.  As they enter the building, Jared stops.  "Jeff?  They said she might lose her leg, but no one is supposed to know that. You weren't supposed to hear any of it."

"Hear what, Jay?"

"Thanks.  See you in the morning."


	5. Day 5

Jensen gets back from Seattle in the wee hours of the morning, grabbing a couple of hours of sleep in the resident's room at the hospital. His usual morning run this time is to his apartment to change clothes and take a quick shallow bath. His bathroom is in that horrible stage of remodeling where lights and plumbing are unfinished. He knows he's going to be happy with the big copper whirlpool tub, but right now, he mutters about it as he pulls on clean clothes.

He's been on the phone with Seattle, with his office in at the Olympic Park as well as his office at the hospital. He has a low level headache from splitting his attention between the phone conversations and his driving, and the bluetooth has signed a long-term lease for his ear. By the time he gets up to Creekside, the women's pursuit has gone off. He pulls into the venue parking and shakes his head to clear it. David will call when there is news, and he needs his wits about him, he reminds himself as he jogs up the slope. Between the excited chatter of the fans and the coverage he's getting on his phone, he knows Genevieve is on the course. He honestly likes the petite Frenchwoman, even if he still doesn't understand everything she was implying, except maybe that Jared likes him.

His phone beeps with an email alert at the same time his radio chirps. A skier in the combined has spilled, and medivac is on the way. Jensen's breath catches. It's not Jared, but a Bratislavian at his first Games. Zoe, his second in command, is on scene and he listens to her working to get the man stabilized and on his way to treatment. His phone says Jared is in second after the first run of the combined and he imaginea the look of delight on that expressive face. He wishes he were there to see it.

They are all under the microscope, or rather the watchful eye of the tv cameras out here in the venues; the opportunity to hang out and talk simply hasn't presented itself. He was proud of what he'd done yesterday. David had worked for hours on Rosario Trinea's knee, and he wouldn't have done the work if he didn't think he could save the woman's leg. Her sled had been old, and the runner snapped when she overturned, driving the broken metal directly into the joint at high g force. That video isn't anything he ever needs to see again.

Gen is on the screen, as she comes into the shooting station. She skis as if she was born to it. It's a tribute, he thinks, to all her years of training, muscles working just as they should as pulls she up to the shooting stand. She throws herself to the ground, steady and still, then, she shoots. She's clean through five shots. Jensen pumps his fist, and an American skier crosses the finish line to the roar of the crowd. Gen is on to her next lap and Jensen looks at the crowd, intent on the finish line and the times flashing up on the board. He talks to the medical team leader for this event, and checks in with base. He makes a note to do something nice for Alan, and to put a letter of recommendation in his file. His utter calm in the emergency had kept everyone else focused, doing exactly what they were trained to do.

Gen's at the next shooting station now, and the camera is on her as if she's the only athlete on the course. She exhales, steamy breath haloing her head, as she slings the rifle off her back, then another as she aims. She hits her target, moves to the next. She finishes with no faults, and skis to the finish line. Jensen knows her legs must be burning, but the finish is so close. She crosses the line and the time goes up. Thirty four minutes 6.2 seconds. She's bent in half, working to catch her breath, then slips her skis and holds them for the camera, for her sponsor. Her smile is real; she's done very well. While she's stripping off her rifle, he makes his way to her, but she's gone by the time he gets there, whisked away by the French minders.

Jensen checks in at the office and his phone beeps again. This time, it's live video of Gen speaking excitedly to the French press.

* * *

  
 _* 13/02/2010 - 23:07  
Poursuite (D): Genevieve Cortese en bronze_

 _La première médaille française de ces Jeux olympiques de Vancouver est venue du biathlon. Sur l'épreuve de poursuite, qui avait souri à Florence Baverel quatre ans plus tôt, Genevieve Cortese a décroché la médaille de bronze, grâce notamment à un sans-faute au tir._

* * *

  
He takes a snowmobile ride with one of the staff up to Alpine, sees Jared take bronze. Chris spots him, drags him over to Jared, surrounded by well-wishers. There's a lot of backslapping and Jared speaks softly into Jensen's ear. "Means a lot to me that you came."

Jeff pulls Jared away and gives Jensen a speculative look. Chris laughs. "Jeffy Bear is checking you out."

"What?!"

"No, no, not like that. He's just watching out for Jared."

Jensen thinks about what the broadcasters on the morning show were saying, what was on the SI wensite. "I don't get it. What do I have to do with anything? "

"Come join us tonight in the village, huh? Jared would like it. You can see him get his medal and drink his weight in Jager."

  
Jensen has to go back to the office, schedules and assignments need to be reviewed, and he remembers to write that note for Alan's file. He watches video of the Bratislavian's fall, and wonders if the man lost his mind, or if the Olympics just did that to some athletes. He stretches, and thinks maybe he will stop by the Village.

  
When he gets to the bar, Genevieve is outside struggling with her jacket. She finally holds it in her fingers. Her phone is on a ledge, and she's speaking French. From the volume, it's an international call. He can't help but overhear.

 _"Maman, j'ai obtenue la médaille de bronze!"_ she says, excitedly.  
 _"Normalement, tu me fais parler anglais,"_ came a cool voice through the handset.  
 _"Je ne suis pas seul."  
"C'est agreable, bonbon. Je dois rencontre le traiteur dans deux heures. Vous seras à la maison quand?"  
"Maman, c'est les jeux Olympiques. J'ai trois événements plus."  
"Geneviève, votre sœur ne se marient une fois"  
_Gen's eyes roll.  
 _"Ne pas rouler les yeux jeune femme."  
"Mon dernier événement est le 24."  
"La noce est sur la 20"  
"Je devine que je dois le manquer."  
"Incroyable."  
"Maman, c'est les jeux Olympiques."  
"C'est le mariage de votre sœur"  
"J'ai envoyé un cadeau. De Milan."  
"Je dois aller."  
_  
She ends the call, bites her lip and says, "I think I need a drink. I am an Olympic medalist."

"Absolument." Jensen says softly

Gen's shoulders are trembling, she turns startled, and Jensen takes the two steps to stand next to her and pull his coat around her shoulders. "Okay?"

"No. Not in the least."

"want to talk?"

"Not in the least. Let us go drink cognac. _I_ am an Olympic medalist."

He takes her phone and punches in his number. "If you decide you want to talk, later."

She holds out her hand for his and returns the favor.

"You kicked Heidi Shootandski's ass. "

"I did."

"By three minutes."

"Jensen! You were watching?"

"I was there."

"It is such a pity you don't like girls. You are very attractive, and I would really like to get laid."

"I will have one drink, since I've had precious little sleep, and I've got a lot to do before doubles luge tomorrow. You can make do with the candy box in the Olympic Village, but somehow I don't think you will."

"One, then." She looks at him, suddenly sober. "How did you know?"

Jensen smiles at her. "I listen, I watch. Your team mates are gregarious, but not observant."

Gen gives him an appraising look. They go into the bar. Jared looks up, startled to see Gen in Jensen's coat, not upset, just interested. She drops the coat on the chair next to Jared, and calls out, "Cognac!"

"Gen?" asks Jared.

"Cognac. I am an Olympic medalist, goddammit. No one competes tomorrow. Jensen may have only one. He has to work."

She's drawn into conversation and Jensen turns to Jared. "Congratulations again," he offers.

Jared pats the chair next to him. "Sit by me"

"I don't know, you sure it's okay for me to sit with a double medalist? And what about Gen?"

"What _about_ Gen?"

"Have you SEEN the SI website?"

Jared throws back his head and laughs. "Sit."

Chris is across the table, catches Jensen's eyes and nods.

"I think ... I think I really don't understand what's actually going on."

Jared laughs, then gets up to get drinks.

"You know," drawls Chris, "if I wasn't on the wrong side of the table, I’d kick you in the ass."

Jensen thinks that sounds a lot like permission.

When Jared comes back, he scoots close to the table and takes Jensen's hand under its cover. There is a question in his eyes. "This is what's going on. If you want."

Jensen likes the feeling. He squeezes back. Jared leans into him with a smile. Of course that's when his phone rings. Anya's number flashes, not the office number, but her personal cell. He thumbs it and hears Jared groan over Anya, saying, "Dr. Ackles, we need to discuss this before I put anything in writing."

"Hang on, ..." he says and glances back to the table. Something must have shown on his face, because Chris and Jared are watching him with wary focus. "I gotta ..." He gestures at the phone and bites his lip as he looks to Jared. Jared grins, though, and waves him off.

"It'll keep," he says.

"If it's serious, I might not be back."

"If they're calling because Lindsay Vonn has a hangnail, hang up. Otherwise, we understand. Go, medicate someone."

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v498/beadslut/fic/?action=view&current=beer.jpg)The wet concrete underfoot and the snowy wall to his back are freezing, but nothing next to the icy lump in his gut as he listens to Anya's results, and, more importantly, her suspicions. "I hear you, and yes, you were right. Record them, send the file to my email and copy George, okay? I'll call him now." Light and laughter and warmth spill from the door every time anyone enters or leaves, but he cannot be overheard, not about this, not here, and he hitches a ride with a roaming security trike to the transport station. He's two stops away from the pub when he remembers Jared and his beer waiting at the table for him. Hoping Jared hadn't waited, he sends a text, and wonders if it wanted a comma. "Sorry I had to go."

Before he gets to the clinic, he has an answer. "Me, too."


	6. Day 6

Jensen's been tied up in meetings all day, and Jared can be patient, but when he's checked his phone for the 20th time since lunch, Chris just wants to get out of the dorms. He's going stir-crazy, and decides they should go to Cypress Mountain to watch the 'boarders. Seeing their venue would be a good way to get away for awhile. He'd feed Jared some sugar, it would all be good.

The snowboarders think Jared's crazy for going down a mountain at 90 miles an hour, they think Chris is crazy for the endless stair climbing and they commiserate with his lack of funding. Chris thinks they're crazy, intentionally flipping yourself around on ice is reckless, and he likes being around them, because of it. They once claimed, after a long evening of beer and tall tales, that their team motto was "Wreckless", and it was all his fault.

Snow at Cypress has been a problem, he's heard, although the half pipe is the marquee event, and the 'boarders don't sound concerned. They get to see six of them come down the pipe, and Jared has gone through most of a bag of red licorice. There's only one fall, not dangerous, and some amazing tricks, that make Chris's heart go into his throat. He's never more than two meters off the ground when he flies, these guys have no sense of gravity.

They can't to stay to the end, since Jared has an interview with an early morning German television show. He looks like the pace is getting to him, practically hasn't slept since he won the downhill with all the interviews and the racing. Jared's as easy going as they come, but he's waiting on Jensen, and on his last nerves. Because of his celebrity in Europe and Asia everyone wants him live. Jared is a great interview, all enthusiasm and smiles, a great representative for his sport, but the time differences are taking their toll. He naps in the limo on the way, leaning on the window, open mouthed, snoring. Chris thinks it's a good thing Jeff hasn't seen his star skier, Jared looks like hell.

Chris sits in the green room while Jared goes through makeup and onto the set. The Vancouver hotel that houses the television studio hosts Japanese, Korean, German and French channels, and there is a lot of activity. A dark haired woman comes in, a sheaf of papers in her hand to get a bottle of water. She's in semi-formal attire from some fancy dress thing. They look each other over with no subtlety. She is engaged in conversation by another woman, in German, and he hears the woman say "Scandal" which sounds the same in both languages, and "Doping" which any athlete understands. Chris doesn't have enough of the language to understand the rest, and they leave, gesturing animatedly.

He wonders idly if this is what Jensen's phone call was about. He would call him, but he figures Jensen couldn't tell him, anyway. He's thirsty and doesn't want the bottled water the attendant offers, so he asks her to tell Jared he'll be in the bar when he's done. He's breaking training, but he's always breaking training, and it's not like USSA can cut ski jumping's funding for it, they don't give them any.

He orders a beer, and is is only slightly surprised when the dark-haired woman walks into the bar, and towards him.

She asks, "Is this seat taken?" and pulls the clip out of her hair, releasing a fall of silk.

"No, ma'am, no it's not."

"May I?"

"Oh, yes, of course, my momma’d kill me. Sorry, I’m just ..holy crap, you’re ..."

Her eyes shutter, and Chris wants that back. He's good at thinking on his feet.

"... probably thirsty, may I buy you a drink?"

The dark eyes clear and she looks bemused. "Thank you."

"I am. Huge fan. All that."

"If you say something about watching me perform when you were a child, I shall weep."

"Beautiful woman like you should never weep." He grins. "Technically we were both teenagers, and what you were doing on the ice is a distant second to what you were doing in my head."

"Ah, ever so much more diplomatic than…"

“You’ve been talking to the kids, haven't you?"

"One does not like to consider oneself venerable."

"Why not? I could give venerating you a try. If you wanted. It sounds like an excellent idea to me."

"Perhaps in this case, it is not so heinous a concept."

They finish their drinks, pretending to listen to the pianist tucked into the corner. Chris wants to say something, to make her famous smile appear, when she turns it on him and asks, "One more?"

They are not drunk when she asks him upstairs, and he texts Jared that he'll get his own ride.

It's is an Olympic opportunity he's just not ready to forego.


	7. Day 7

Jensen scratches his belly, and stretches as the tub begins to fill. He's got candles lit in the bathroom, because the wiring's still not done.

His phone rings, and he grabs it on the first ring. There might still be some news before the press conference tomorrow.

"Jensen Ackles."

"Jen, it's Jared."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm so fucking tired," whispers Jared.

"I know, you're running on empty, gotta get some sleep."

"I'm in a car and I don't know where it should go. I was at the German's tv studio, the one in their hotel, not Deutches Haus, and Chris, well, I guess he met someone. I don't know how to get to my dorm."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to bother you," he stammers. "I just need help, and I can't think who else to call. Where am I staying?"

"Don't you have a minder?" asks Jared incredulously.

"No, and I'm lost in Canada. Where can I SLEEP?"

"Jared, it's after one, way past curfew, the cars can't get into the village." Jensen wonders, for just a second, how bad of an idea this is before he offers, "You could come here. I have a spare bed. Just call your coach."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Are you?"

"Please?"

"Give the driver your phone."

He gives the driver his address and goes outside to wait for Jared.

Jensen's phone rings while he's waiting, and he doesn't recognize the number. "Jensen Ackles."

"Dr. Ackles, this is Jeffrey Morgan, coach of the US alpine team." He sighs. "I just got a text from Jared Padalecki, saying he's on his way to your residence. He's supposed to be back here with the team, although it's a lot like herding cats."

"I thought it would be easier than trying to find his dorm at one in the morning."

"Jared needs to leave for the hill at seven. He's got a race to practice for, needs to be focused."

Morgan sounds worried, but not frantic.

"I catch your drift, Mr. Morgan, but honestly, he sounds exhausted. Shall I redirect the driver?"

" I am told you're a strai... um... man of integrity."

"Mr. Morgan..."

"Oh, hell, call me Jeff. Mr. Morgan is my father." Jensen hears him take a breath. "Jared's a man full grown, and he trusts you."

"Jeff, then. Jared's here. I'm putting him to bed. Alone."

"Dr. Ackles..."

"I think you can call me Jensen."

"Thanks. It's my job to worry."

"Mine, too. I've got this one. I'll have Jared to you in the morning."

Jensen thanks the driver, and Jared slings his arm around him, barely vertical.

"I'm sorry, Jen, I know it's late. I guess I need a keeper."

"You're welcome here, anytime. Let's get you to bed, huh?"

"Jen, this isn't how I ..." He yawns and knuckles his eyes. "Can I grab a shower?"

"Well, no. I'm remodeling, and the shower's not installed, but I can do better."

Jared looks confused and Jensen ushers him into the bathroom. The candles lighting the room make it enticing and romantic, an effect lost on Jared for the moment. He gestures at the copper tub that's steaming invitingly, and pushes the button for the whirlpool jets. "The lighting fixtures are being rewired, but the tub works. Towels are on the chair, there, and I think I have a pair of sweats that'll fit you. Call out if you need anything."

  
Jensen hasn't heard a noise from the bathroom in twenty minutes, and peeks in the door. Jared's well muscled arms lie on the edge of the tub, and his head is tipped back, wet hair slicked back from his high forehead. His eyes are closed, and Jensen doesn't know if he's disappointed or relieved, so he takes a moment to admire Jared's smoky eyelashes and lush lips. His gaze drifts down, cataloging Jared's body. Jensen's business is athletes, bodies sculpted to perfection, and Jared still takes his breath. Muscle on muscle, not an ounce of fat disguises his anatomical perfection. A washcloth sits in his lap, and Jensen smiles softly. It's certainly possible nothing will ever come of this, but at least he will have the sight of Jared in his tub committed to memory. He chides his erection into submission.

Jensen hauls Jared out of the tub, using all the tricks he's learned with patients who can't do it themselves. He dries him off, as Jared sways with fatigue, and gets him into the spare room. Jared is sound asleep when he hits the bed. Jensen brushes Jared's hair back and pulls the covers over him. He goes into the bathroom and rifles Jared's pockets for his phone, placing it on the bedside table before he pulls the door to. He's glad he learned to function on little to no sleep when he was an intern; he doesn't think he's getting any this night. He goes back to his laptop to review the information they'll present tomorrow.

* * *

  
Jared wakes up at 5:30, just before the alarm on his phone goes off. He has a moment of confusion, because the bed is big enough. With a groan he remembers showing up at Jen's and falling asleep. He wonders how he got into bed, and his eyes fly open. It's plain after a cursory glance that he's the only one that slept in this bed last night. He's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed. There's a pair of sweats on the bed, and he pulls them on. They are only a little too short for him, and he pads barefooted into the hallway. He can hear Jen talking in his professional voice. Jared ducks into the bathroom that's still candle-lit and takes care of his morning routine, brushing his teeth with the new brush that's left out for him. He looks into his eyes in the mirror and hopes he hasn't screwed it all up with Jen, hasn't intruded on him, hasn't wasted all this week waiting for no reason, because he wants this, wants Jen. He breathes deeply and walks into the kitchen, where Jen stands, typing on the computer that sits on the inside of the breakfast bar. It's almost as if he feels Jared walk into the room, he turns and stares, eyes dark and questioning. Jared's doing some staring of his own; Jen's wearing dark gray slacks, and an open olive dress shirt that brings out the startling green in his eyes.

"Morning," offers Jensen quietly.

"Morning," Jared agrees and takes a step.

"Coffee?"

"Can't." Another step.

"Training?"

"Yup." Each word brings him closer to Jensen until they are almost chest to chest.

"I promised your coach..." Jensen begins.

"Jen..."

Jen groans. "... but if I don't kiss you soon, I --"

Jared tips his head down in full agreement, and stops the rest of Jen's sentence. His lips are soft and full beneath Jared's. They part under the soft kiss with a sigh, and Jared feels lightning struck.

He pulls back, dazed. "Jen, have I read this wrong? Is this what you want?"

"I really do." He pulls Jared's hips flush against him, and through the soft sweats, Jared can feel his desire. He leans in again, hands stroking the soft skin at Jen's back, plundering his mouth until they are both panting and Jen breaks off the kiss.

"I want this." His eyes hold Jared's "I want you, in my bed, with all the time in the world, and without," he looks sheepish, "the thought of your... Jeff breathing down my neck."

"Hmmm," murmurs Jared, planting soft kisses on Jensen's neck. "Mood killer."

"I want you, without having to worry about today's press conference."

"Shit. Places to be for both of us." He shivers and backs away. "I have to race tomorrow, practice today."

"I have a press conference in two hours."

"I'll get dressed."

"I wish, I wish you didn't have to."

Jared nods. "Me either. I do, though. I'll hurry, we can both get to where we have to be."

They don't talk much in the car, but Jared can't stop grinning.

"What?" Jen asks, smiling back.

"Was just thinking how hot Doctor!Jensen is."

"Really. I prefer Bathtub!Jared." He pauses to pull into a parking space, and turns off the car. "I have to admit, I like Sleepytime!Jared, too."

"Thanks again, Jen. That's not how I wanted to end up in your bed."

Jensen grins. "Good. That was only the guest room."

Jared laughs, and they get out of the car and walk over to the athlete's bus, where his coach is waiting.

Nodding a greeting, Jeff gives them both a once over. "'m fine, mom." Jared says.

Jeff grunts. "Thanks Doc... Jensen."

"I'll call you later." Jen says, his smile for Jared

"Call, but Jared's grounded tonight. Race tomorrow." growls Jeff.

Jen smiles, and Jared wants that smile every day. "Yes, sir."

They watch Jensen walk awayand Jeff asks. "You know what you're doin', boy?"

"Nope. Never wanted anything like this before," Jared admits quietly.


	8. Day 8

The Pineapple Express comes through overnight and the slopes are nothing but ice. All the protests to VACOM are wiped out in a blink from Mother Nature.

* * *

  
 _Tim, Super G is unique in that it is conducted over one run, like Downhill, but racers are not permitted to train the course at full speed before the race. As in giant slalom and slalom, they are allowed only a one hour visual inspection of the course on the morning of the race. This distinction adds to the unpredictable nature of the event and requires ski racing abilities that are different from the other three disciplines. As in other alpine disciplines, downhill racers wear skin-tight suits to minimize drag, and helmets are mandatory._

* * *

Jensen's in his office at six, working with the course officials to determine where they should set up extra netting. Turn six appears particularly treacherous, and Jensen puts Zoe's team as close to the spot as is practical. The first skier down is the Austrian Jager Hochsprung. He skitters across the second turn and misses it, taking a much slower route down, out of the race. Second is Bratislavian Jan Peskousa. Jensen can see he's out of control from the third gate, fighting for balance, but somehow, making each gate as it's set. It's astounding that he makes it to the bottom of the hill at all, and for the moment, he is in first place. Jensen's watching on the closed circuit, sees the officials meet him, and escort him and the Bratislavian minders to "random" drug testing.

Two more skiers make it down, Peskousa is in second, Dutch skier Willem Kurhaas is in the lead by 7 hundredths. Austrian star Ernst Gebrochen comes off the course at turn six, the one Jensen had noted as the most trouble. He flies into the air and hits hard, sliding across yards of ice and hitting the netting at a horrible angle, on top of his pole. Jensen stands behind Alan, whose calm efficiency brings out the best in everyone on the medical teams. Jensen looks up at the screen, there's Zoe, and he hears her voice on the radio. Compound fracture, she calls for medivac while she stabilizes the skier. Zoe's team works, and the pool of blood on the snow doesn't get bigger before the downed skier is in the ambulance

* * *

  
 _"Todd, can you explain all the orange netting? There seems to be a lot more of it today than there was for the downhill."_

 _"Sure, Tim. Safety netting and padding are placed in worrisome areas where race officials anticipate crashes. Despite these safety precautions, the ski racing community is well aware of the inherent risks in downhill skiing, for it is possible for racers to suffer serious injury or death while practicing or competing. Two downhill-related deaths on the World Cup in recent years were those of Austrian Ulrike Maier in 1994 and Frenchwoman Régine Cavagnoud in 2001. Also in 2001, Swiss downhiller Silvano Beltrametti was paralyzed in a high-speed crash. "_

* * *

Jensen gets his jacket and gear. He is as much Zoe's back up as she is his, and it looks like it will be a very busy day for medical services. On his way out, Alan's voice on the radio says another skier is off the course at turn six. It's the Swiss star Montre Swatch. So far, the top eight skiers in the world have gone off the course, but thankfully only the one serious injury. He worries about Jared, figuring where he is in the start order.

Jensen places himself at the outrun of turn six. The course crew has shoveled snow over the spot, and if you didn't already know, it wouldn't be apparent there had been blood on the snow. Jensen swallows hard. He's seen hours of video to prepare for any injury that might happen, but Jared makes it personal, makes him realize how dangerous the sport actually is to the skiers.

* * *

 _  
"Let's give the folks at home a little background on this race while we wait for cleanup."_

 _"Super G incorporates aspects of both downhill and giant slalom racing. It involves skiing between widely spaced gates as in Giant Slalom, but with fewer turns over a longer course and with higher speeds approaching those achieved in Downhill. The minimum number of gates is 35 for men and 30 for women. Super G skiers will often assume the "tuck" position as in Downhill, but will continue turning constantly as in Giant Slalom, rarely encountering the periodic straight "gliding" sections of a Downhill course. Super G courses in international competition must be at least one minute in length and can be as long as one minute and 45 seconds. Speeds at the World Cup level generally average from 88-96 km (55-60 miles) per hour."_

* * *

Jensen knows Jared is up next, and his stomach clenches in anticipation.

Like so many of the other top skiers, Jared is carrying top speed as he reaches the turn and skitters through six. He goes airborne, cartwheeling, and lands flat on his face, his goggles breaking loose to fly across the course. His skis come to a gentle rest where the snow is churned at the side of the course.

Jensen can only react and puts his arms out, actually catching him. They tumble in the snow. Jensen ends up on top, his hood flopping forward to hide their faces.

Jared looks up. "Your eyes are so green." he says with wonder, and steals a kiss.

"Did you hit your head?" asks Jensen, sitting up. He looks into Jared's eyes for signs of concussion, doesn't see any.

Jared laughs at him. "Because your eyes are green? Crap I'm gonna be sore later."

He has a black eye coming, thinks Jensen. "The camera crews up in the cranes are going to think we're both hurt out here." he says, wincing at the scrape on Jared's cheek

"Yeah, and your team is on their way right now."

Jensen starts to disengage realizing that he's straddling Jared.. "Arms okay? Legs? Let's get you off the course."

"Shit." mutters Jared, flexing his limbs for Jensen's inspection.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just not looking forward to skiing down the hill in my aerodynamic body hugging suit. Feel what you do to me."

Jensen flushes, opens his pack and slaps a dressing on Jared's cheek

He struggles to his feet giving Jared a hand up and a last look filled with promise, before sending him down the hill in his schuss of shame.

By Jensen's tally, the fifteen best skiers in the race have DNFs. Frenchman Jacques Babar has churned the course, and while the groomers repair the run, Jensen calls Chris, who's at qualifying for his own jump,

"I've got coach T’s laptop open here, we're all watching CTV's feed." He already knows Jared has a DNF and he's clicking through the jpegs of Gebrochen's accident. "There's blood on the ice, blood on the track, and there's a Paramedic in a green jacket, that isn't you."

That's Zoe. She went in the medivac with Gebrochen. Where are you seeing this stuff?"

“Cellphones man, everyone’s a paparazzi. They posted to their blogs, and the news services are picking them up.“

"Holy shit, that looks scary." says a voice Jared doesn't recognize.

"Who's that?"

"My coach, the one with the laptop and wifi card. Yeah, T, it sucks, but it wasn't Jared. Hey, the news on the hill is you saved that girl luger's leg by sending her to Seattle, and doctors are optimistic she'll walk again with no trouble."

Jensen feels a warm glow of accomplishment.

* * *

  
 _"Our next to last racer, the youngest American skier, Colin Ford, took extra time to make sure he cleared the troublesome section and unexpectedly won the gold."_

 _“Bob, in the runout, we can see Jared Padalecki, who did not finish earlier. He’s staying to support his teammate, but you can see the frustration on his face.”_

 _“Along with a great big bruise. Well, Tim, these are young men, after all, and years of training were lost in a split second to a skid on ice. I can understand his frustration.”_

 _“No frustration for the Italians, though. They must be very proud of their showing, earning Silver and Bronze."_

 _"We're sending you to skeleton, and if you haven't seen this sport yet, you're going to enjoy it. We'll see Colin at the medal ceremony tonight, and in our studios with Bob Costas. For now, goodbye from Whistler Creekside!"_

* * *

Jensen has a meeting that runs late re: dealing with the course and the doping as well as tomorrow's jumping. He closes his front door and leans against it, head tipped back and eyes closed.

Chris texts him then, to say Jared's back from a massage, that he's fine, sore, not as pretty as he was that morning, but most importantly, he's sound asleep.

Jensen bolts a sandwich, and pulls on his sweats. HIs phone chimes with a text from Jared, "Call me when you can."

Jensen's torn. He knows Jared needs his sleep, but he wants to call back, wants to hear that low voice before he goes to sleep. He gives in, feeling selfish.

"Hi."

"Hi. I'm sorry to call so late."

"s'okay. Wanted to hear your voice." Jensen grips the phone a little tighter. "How'd your meeting go?"

"I was much more convincing when I thought about you tangled in the netting and bleeding," he confesses. You scared me half to death this morning."

"Was kind of scary. Chris heard it was me in the ambulance, but then they got the live feed."

"Oh, man."

"Yeah. He fell asleep on the couch."

"So, what are your plans tomorrow?" Jensen asks, as he slips into bed

"I was gonna go watch Chris jump, see if I could get a hot paramedic to notice me." Jared says, playfully.

"That's Doctor Paramedic to you."

"He is you know, really hot, with his green eyes. With his freckles. With his hands. With his brains."

Jensen makes a choking noise

"Should I tell you what I was thinking, lying in the snow, underneath you?"

Jensen groans and lays back in his bed, hand drifting to his hardening cock. "Jared, do you know what you're doing to me?"

"I hope so. Are you in bed?"

"Yeah."

"I wish I was there. Take care of that, go to sleep."

"Me, too. You, too."


	9. Day 9

Jared wakes up in the morning as always, swings his legs to the floor and winces. The massage, the pain killers, the sleep, all of them have helped, but falling off a mountain onto your face takes some time to recover from. He stretches, loosening the muscles in his back, feeling them protest. He has to get in the shower quickly, and wake Chris, if he isn't already up.

It's the finals in Chris's favorite event. Jared knows the routine. Chris will get up, throw up, shower, go to the hill, throw up again, and then collect himself, becoming the fierce competitor that challenges the best in the world. Right now, though, he is the guy that fell asleep on the couch, probably wishing he had Hannah Teter's quilt. Jared showers, gets dressed, and leans over the back of the couch.

"Chris."

"Mmmph."

"Chris. Large Hill Final."

Chris bolts for the bathroom. Jared nods. He likes to get the vomiting out of the way early. "Meet you on the bus!" he calls. Chris wouldn't be joining him for breakfast.

Jared finds a seat by the window and inserts his ear buds. He watches video of Chris jumping for the World Cup, knowing there won't be a word out of him until he throws up again. A body flops dow in the next seat. Familiarity, thinks Jared, makes good training partners. It's shaping up to be a good day. Jeff called to say there was too much fog at Alpine to ski, and that he was free to spend the day with Chris, so long as he made his physical therapy appointment. Jared sipped at the small cup of coffee he allowed himself, savoring the scent and the flavor of the unexpected treat. From the bus, he and Chris walked to the lift, riding companionably up to the warming house. Chris gives Jared a look when they get to the top, and jogs for the facilities. Jared chugs the rest of the coffee, knows Chris will want to go straight to work when he comes back.

He strips off his jacket and squats, twisting his torso from left to right to loosen the muscles. The tails of his red hat whack him in the bruise, and he makes a face. Rolling his shoulders, then his neck, he looks over at the appple box in time to see Chris stand on it.

"Ready?" asks Chris.

"Nice of you to join us," says Jared, taking his position in front of Chris. "One, two, three!"

Flexing his knees, Chris jumps up, well over Jared's head, landing his chest on the steady platform of his rooommate's upraised hands. It's a training exercise they've been doing for three years, Chris swears it's what helped him turn the corner to compete with the Europeans. They do several reps, and Jared sees Chris's coach smiling in the corner. He nods, and Jared tells Chris, "Time."

Chris nods, and gives Jared a confident look. "Thanks man."

"You're welcome. I'll be waiting at the bottom. Go do your thing."

"At least you'll have company." Chris smirks.

Normally, Jared would argue the point, but it's true. Jen's at the bottom of the outrun, hopefully there won't be any medical emergencies. He looks around the room at the competitors and squelches that thought quickly.

 _So das ist wie er das macht._

 _Du must deine eigene riese finden_ answers Jared. He's pretty sure he's butchered the language, but the German ski jumper smiles, so he figures he's made himself understood.

Grabbing his jacket, he grimaces at the pony and reminds himself to swap it out for the Nike gear back in the dorm. He takes the lift down, sharing the seat with a Finnish coach, bantering in a broken combination of English and German. Jared has a plan. He's going to tag along with Jen and watch Chris. What could be better?

The stands are filling steadily, and he spots the crowd of medical people, one wearing his green hat. Jen waves him over, past the security staff, and Jared walks a little faster. A yellow lab bounds out of the group, and Jared goes to one knee to greet her, suffering her kisses and patting her wriggling delight. He hears Jen laugh. "I see you've met Norah."

* * *

 _  
Whistler Blackcomb is proudly represented by thirteen avalanche dogs and their handlers. The dogs work full or part time, depending if their handler is a professional or volunteer patroller. The teams have a range of experience, from puppies entering the first stages of training to dogs with years of experience. Their names are Burleigh, Finna, Norah, Quest, Zhiggy, Haole, Lexy, Kally, Koda, Mac, Gracy, Kaya and Hector._

* * *

Norah goes off with her handler, and Jen tips Jared's head up to look at his cheek. He shakes his head.

"I know, right? Couldn't even stay on my skis."

"I think it was more the landing on your face."

"I have to ski better than that in the GS." For the first time, he lets Jensen see his self-doubt. Usually, he deals pretty well with it, but the fall shook his confidence a little bit.

"I don't know what's got you freaked out, there's no reason for it. The top 20 skiers in the world came off the course in just about the same spot. You're not stupid, or slow, or clumsy, you sit on top of the snow in some feat of antigravity, and you shouldn't be able to because you're an enormous Sasquatch mother fucker. You'll do better tomorrow. Get on the podium and ... well, I'll think of something appropriate."

"I know I can ski Jen, but, I want... Okay, I'll be honest. You know what I really want? I want your lips. I fantasize about your lips."

Jen spins in his tracks. "You do?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Well, then."

"Well, then?"

"Motivation is important, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, be motivated by where my lips will... Jared, this is highly inappropriate..."

*groans*

Jenn leans into him and whispers. "I fantasize too. I fantasize about you spread out on my bed. Naked, boneless, straight from the bathtub..."

Jared groans again.

"Why don't you get up on the podium, then, as a mercy to us both?" Jen changes the subject. "Chris is gonna rock this, you know."

* * *

 _  
The ski jump is divided into four separate sections; 1) In-run, 2) Take-off (jump), 3) Flight and 4) Landing. In each part the athlete is required to pay attention to and practice a particular technique in order to maximise the outcome of ultimate length and style marks. Using the modern , pioneered by Jan Boklöv of Sweden in 1985, world-class skiers are able to exceed the distance of the take-off hill by about 10% compared to the previous technique with parallel skis .  Aerodynamics has become a factor of increasing importance in modern ski jumping, with recent rules addressing the regulation of ski jumping suits._

* * *

Chris is next to go. Jared stands in what seems to be Team USA's cheering section, their exuberance contagious. Well, he thinks, contagious up to the point where you feel like a parent whose child is going off the big jump the first time. Then you just think of all the things that can go wrong. He knows Chris lives for this, the seconds he can fly, but right up until he leaves the jump, Jared's heart is going to be in his mouth. He looks at Jen, who nods at him. It's nice to know he was looking.

Chris leaves the bench and starts down the in-run. He picks up speed, and then some more until he's going almost 70 miles an hour and his body snaps into his leap. Chris has tried to explain the sensation, comparing it to Jared taking air when he goes over a jump, but it can't be like that, the stark fear of not getting your feet underneath you, losing time, missing a corner; he can't feel those emotions and be so still in the air. Jared takes a breath, and Chris is still flying.

134.5 meters is where he lands. Jared goes crazy with the cheering crowd. It's a personal best for Chris, and his grin when he sees his friend goes from ear to ear. He's on to the final round, in contention for a medal. This day keeps getting better.

* * *

 _  
"Art, we have breaking news from the Callaghan Valley, Chris Kane of the US Ski Jumping Team - you remember, he collapsed on the first day of qualifying on the normal hill? - has won the first US medal - a bronze - in the sport since 1924. We'll take you there right now. Sandy?"_

* * *

"Hi, Lee Ann, I'm Sandy McCoy, and I'm in the midst of pandemonium here in Callaghan Valley along with Chris Kane. Chris, how do you feel?"

"I'm so happy. You know, we haven't medalled in my sport since the first Winter Games."

"After your collapse on day one, were you concerned about your chances?"

"Turns out, I had the flu,' He laughs. "The Medical Staff put me right, though, and wanna I thank them for all their work out here."

"What's next for you, Chris?"

"Oh, I get to be a superfan now, go see all the events, cheer on the team. My roommate's won two medals, and I haven't seen him ski at all. I'll be doing that, for sure."

"Back to World Cup?"

"I'm flying high, right now, Sandy. I hope so, but you know, we ski jumpers don't have any funding, so if anyone needs some electrical work done," he laughs again. "I'm your man!"


	10. Day 10

_Giant slalom is an alpine skiing discipline. It involves skiing between sets of poles ("gates") spaced at a greater distance to each other than in slalom but not as great as in super G. Giant slalom and slalom make up the "technical events" in alpine ski racing. This category separates them from the "speed events" like super G and downhill._

 _Giant slalom skis are longer than slalom skis, but not as long as super G and downhill skis._

* * *

The hair on the back of Jeff's neck is crawling uncomfortably.  He stops to think about the skiing he's seen so far on the mountain, something isn't sitting right with him.  The Ruritanian and Bratislavian coaches are a little thicker than they usually are.  He wishes he'd remembered to call Ackles this morning, to see if there were any strange results in Peskousa's tox screen, but he probably wouldn't be able to say, anyway.

He's seen a number of skiers trying the new air puff stategy that the Finns think enhances the racer's peripheral vision.  It's just air.  Jeff's had his eyes checked at the optometrist, and he doesn't think there's anything to it.  None of his team is making use of the technique as far as he knows, no one's even suggested it except one of his trainers, Don Lamb.  When Jeff sees him talking to Peskouska's coach, his neck hairs start to do the wave.  Jeff doesn't believe in ignoring his hunches, when Lamb walks past him, head down, Jeff decides they need to talk. "Don, a word?"

Lamb starts, and pastes a smile on his face.  "Yeah, Jeff?"

"In private."

Shoulders gone stiff, Lamb walks into the men's room, the only place that might allow some privacy.  There are athletes and coaches everywhere, tuners and trainers making last minute adjustments.  Jeff closes the door behind them, and leans on it.  "Tell me what you know about Peskousa's crash."

The man is startled, and his eyes go to the zipped breast pocket of his vest.  Jeff doesn't want to believe it.  He shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, he's not sure what, and Lamb takes a swing at him.  Of all the things he was anticipating, ducking a punch wasn't on the list, but Jeff has been in his share of disagreements at closing time, shifting his head just enough that the punch connects with the door, and not his head.

"Oi!" came a voice from outside.  "All right?"

Jeff was ducking another punch, when Dieter Bosch pushed open the door, and grabbed Lamb's arm.  The coach of the German team waited for an explanation from Jeff, who looked past him to see the Swiss coach, Henri Montblanc.  "Henri, I need an IOC official in here now, and I need security."  The man nodded and left.  They might be rivals on the mountain, but they were friendly colleagues, and Jeff had stood godfather to Henri's daughter.

Bosch has Lamb on his knees, arm pulled tight behind his back.  "Was ist... What has happened here?  It appears to be more than a coaching disagreement, Jeff, and this violence could not come at a worse time."  They could both hear the beep of the starting gate.

Henri reappeared with the IOC official and two security guards who took in the vignette.  "Go," say Jeff, "see to your skiers.  Dieter, will you ask Rodney to see to Colin, please, and if I'm not back, Sheppard for Jared.  I'm not sure, my gut says ... Alain Baxter."

Bosch looks solemn, nodds and goes to tend to his athletes, Henri frowning in his wake.

He hoped his boys were clean.  He hoped against hope that he wan't ruining reputations, that what he was about to say wouldn't strip Jared and Colin of their medals.  He ran his team clean, solid training, nothing that would come back to ruin the health of his boys ten years down the road, nothing that would ruin them in their sport, but they didn't always tell him everything. He closed his eyes and exhaled.  If they were dirty, he was sorry. The IOC official waited patiently.  
   
"I have reason to believe that Don Lamb is carrying a substance in his breast pocket that is the performance enhancer we've been concerned about."

Lamb's shoulders sagged.  Jeff thought it was as good as a confession.  The official spoke into his radio.

  
They let him wait at the bottom of the hill for Colin and Jared, an IOC minder no more than three steps behind him.  They were gold and bronze, and Jeff would have to watch their runs later.  He needed to talk to Ackles, and spotted him standing next to Kane.  Walking over to them, Jeff couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Hey, I hear you need some electrical work done."

"I do.  Oh, my God, Chris, I made some promises yesterday."

  
"Oooh, looks like someone's finally putting out."

  
"Chris!"

  
"Living with you two has been hell the last couple of days."

  
Jeff clears his throat, and Ackles starts, turns, sees Jeff and flushes beet red.

"Morgan."

"I need a word."

Chris looks wary, but Jeff doesn't have time to ressure him.  "Nevermind that, it's inevitable.  I have to go talk to the IOC about the doping."

Ackles straightens, every inch now the professional.  He nods for Jeff to continue, and Kane looks like he's ready for a fight.

"I can't say anything more, but VACOM's lab is going to be busy the next few days.  I need to ask you for a favor, a personal one."

Ackles looks troubled, and Jeff's respect for the man grows.  "I would bet my family he's clean.  I wanted to ask you to be his friend, but I hear I'm a day late."

With a nod and a blush, the younger man says "I've got this one."

Jeff knows he's good for it.

Jared comes off the podium beaming and bouncing.  "Jeff!  Where were you?"  Before he can answer, Jared's turned to Jensen. "You got a vase?" 

"What?"

  
"These flowers need to get into water."

  
Jeff pokes the doctor hard in the back. "I think I do.  I have just the vase for those."

  
"At your house, right?"

  
"Oddly enough, that's  where it is."

"Let's go."

  
"You know you have to be at the medal ceremony tonight, right?" asks Chris.

  
Jeff thinks it will be okay.

* * *

 _"Bob, Padalecki was a little tentative on the medal stand tonight."_

 __

 _"He's probably still sore from the spill he took in the Giant Slalom on Friday.  We can ask him about it in studio later this evening, Mary."_


	11. Day 11

Jared wakes up enough before Jensen leaves for his office at Creekside to brush his teeth and kiss him "see you soon". Offhandedly, Jen says "Oh, your key is on the kitchen table." as he walks out the door. Jared catches his breath and walks into Jen's kitchen. On the table, leaning up against a cut glass vase holding his Olympic bouquet, is a paper folded into an envelope. He opens it, catching the key by reflex, gripping it so tightly its teeth bite him as he reads, "So you can get in when you get home."

Jared's been on his own since he was sixteen, and he's never thought of anywhere as "home" since. He looks around at the house, the dvds stacked crookedly under the television, a pizza magnet on the fridge, a framed print on the wall, personal touches that hotel rooms try and fail to capture, Jen’s sunglasses lying forgotten on the kitchen counter, food in the fridge and it’s overwhelming for a moment, the idea that he could touch this, be here, have something more than housemates standing in the kitchen slurping ramen and frozen peas over the sink.

The idea of growing up, moving in, a relationship that wasn’t built on snow and ice and fighting over whose duffel was left in the hall makes him giddy, dizzy, and he has to just sit, until his phone rings.

"Jared."

"Hey, it's Sheppard. There's no skiing up there today, you can't see but a yard in front of you, so you're off. Jeff says not to forget your PT."

"Got it. Thanks."

He walks back into the bedroom to get some clean clothes out of his duffle. The tumble of sheets catches his eye, and he remembers yesterday afternoon.

  
He's still standing there when the front door opens again, and Jen's back. He's startled, and isn't sure what's in his eyes.

Jen says, "My second sent me home."

Jared drops everything except the key. "Remind me to bring him a sixpack." He puts the key down on his open phone. It can't get lost that way.

“Not sure she’s a beer drinker.”

“Roses, then.”

"She favors chrysanthemums," offers Jen.

"Seriously?"

"Go figure."

"I’ll buy chrysanthemums. C’mere." He holds out his hand, and Jen gives him a shy smile.

"She sent these, too."

Jared looks down to find he's holding a strip of Vancouver 2010 Olympic condoms. He shouts with laughter, and tumbles Jen onto the bed.

A few hours later, Jared wakes up again. He can hear Jen talking in the other room, and he's not sure if they're alone, so he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before he walks into the living room, carrying a Park City t-shirt. Jen's just ending the call, and looks bleak.

"What is it?"

"That coach we brought down the mountain, the day Chris collapsed? He's dead. First he went blind, and now he's dead."

"I... what?"

Jen sits heavily in his desk chair, and motions Jared to sit. "There's been a lot going on, and I wasn't supposed to say anything, but if you're going to be here, you'll hear it all anyway. I don't need to--"

"I can go in another room," he offered.

"I don't want there to be secrets between us, Jared. Not when we're so new a misunderstanding could ruin it all. I have permission. I asked for it."

Jared nods, and scoots forward.

"My colleague, Anya, is in charge of the lab for the Games. She oversees the blood tests, the piss tests that you all take when you win, the ones that some people get tagged to take randomly."

"Sure, it's expected. Random pee days. All year. We never know when someone will show up with a bottle."

"Well, we're seeing something. It's a designer drug that mimics the effects of propranalol but it doesn't ping as a banned substance. Now that we have a sample of the actual drug, Anya was able to run a panel against the coach's tests, and he had certainly taken it. We know Peskouska was on it."

Jared draws a noisy breath. "You got a sample?"

"Well, no, actually. Your coach did. I don't know all the details, but I do know he was involved. This is bad news, Jared. Thinking it kills your fear reflex long enough to finish your event..." he trails off, looking bleak. "It doesn't just inhibit their fear, Jared. Blind, then dead. We don't know if they're all going to be hit like that, but now we can test to find them. I have to do a couple of hours of work on the information Anya's sending me." Jen laughs bitterly. "Zoe says I'm better at that Powerpoint thing, and I have to talk to the IOC tomorrow."

"I'll bring you some lunch."

Jared's been on the phone almost all afternoon, catching up on what happened with Jeff, with Lamb, when Jen comes into the kitchen.

"Thanks. I think it's as close to done as can be, at least until I get more data. So, I was thinking." Jared loves Jen's shy look. "If you ... I would ... Want to go out to dinner?"

"You asking me on a date, Jen?"

"Zoe called you my new boyfriend."

"Am I?"

"That's your call."

"My call?"

"Jare, you're here for the Olympics. Then you leave. You have to tell me what to call this."

"A beginning."


	12. Day 12

Jensen's phone goes off at five. He sees it's Anya, and slips out of Jared's embrace to pull on some pants and take the call in the living room. He really doesn't want to talk to Anya without pants.

For all the years he has known her, Jensen's never heard her this upset. She has been up all night testing and re-testing, railing at the stupidity of anyone that would put poison like this in their bodies. She's sent him the data, and now she's going to go grab some sleep before the teleconference.

He starts to prepare for the call, pacing and collecting his thoughts. He goes to his laptop, to review Anya's data, and hears the toilet flush. Jared doesn't interrupt him, just starts the coffee maker, and brings him a cup. Jensen takes a sip and puts it down, paces some more. "I just don’t get it, you are all healthy people, prime physical condition, why would anyone do something so risky?"

"I don’t know?"

"But he could be you! Oh, not you, but someone just LIKE you, or Chris! Or… Jare, people are dead and this crap is doing it, they're doing it to themselves deliberately and what the hell." He braces himself against the window frame with a shaking hand.

Jared stands behind him, curling around and over, as much skin contact as he can manage, a full body hug. "There’s more than one reason we compete." Jensen feels the rumble of his voice through his entire body. "I feel the mountain at 80 miles an hour, push my legs to the limit to know that this is as high as I can reach, and then reach that one inch, hell, one centimeter more. To fly twenty feet above the ground, to be more than just human in two minutes bursts. The podium isn’t the point, the ride to it is."

"So what other reasons?" Jensen leans his head back against Jared’s neck

"To win at any cost. The medal is more important than touching the wind for some guys."

"That’s fucked up."

"Well, yeah. That’s where this started when you hung up the phone. Results, hunh?"

Jensen nods. "It's very bad. The IOC has to get the news down to their federations."

Jared bends over and kisses the corner of his collarbone, nuzzling into the pulse at Jensen's throat. "They will. You and Anya will tell them. Do you think you'll be finished in time to see Gen ski?"

"Yeah. Let's go see Gen, show her we're not idiots."

"I have to go to practice. Can I meet you at your office?"

"Sure. Do you have your key?"

* * *

  
 _Al, we have some breaking news on the mysterious death of Bratislavian coach Zoltan Záznam. The IOC has made the sporting federations aware of a deadly designer drug that was believed to be a performance enhancing drug that was very difficult to detect. VACOM Medical Services are reported to have uncovered this issue, and have developed a reliable screening process. The IOC is asking that all athletes, trainers and coaches be tested for this life-threatening substance._

* * *

Jensen sits in the stands on Jared's left, while he speaks animatedly to Jeff. The Jumbotron shows Gen fighting for every last inch on the incline to the finish line, narrowly edging out the Finnish skier for second place. Silver. Gen fights to catch her breath, and topples in the snow next to the finish line. They stand and cheer, supportive but not invasive, as the French coaches swarm over the finish area. He hears a shout of triumph, and then Gen throws herself over the fence and into his arms. She kisses him soundly, then flings herself onto Jared’s back, clambering over him, kissing him just as ferociously, when Jared picks them both up in hug. Her eyes shine and she whispers to both of them. "THAT is my wedding present to my sister." Cameras are flashing and clicking away. She draws back, and looks at the two of them.

"You are not idiots after all."

She hugs them one last time, somehow pulling Jeff into their group and her joyous laughter peals. She's gone then, to change, to do interviews, with a promise to meet up later.

“I think I have chapstick in my ears,” complains Jensen.

“Cherry flavored?” asks Jared. He leans over to sniff at Jensen, who wishes they weren't in public. Wiping the corner of his mouth, Jared nods. “Yep, that’s our girl. Be thankful she’s not using the colored lip balm anymore. That stuff stained.”

Jensen’s phone buzzes, and he excuses himself, skirting the exiting fans and making for a quiet spot. Jeff and Jared slide out of the way of the shuffling herd as well. He covers his other ear with one gloved hand and thumbs the volume on his phone to max. It's Abby, calling to tell him Peskouska's been admitted, a vision problem coupled with hypertension. The tox screen was positive, and Anya's proposed treatment has begun. Jensen asks her to keep him in the loop, and walks back to Jared. He's in a serious conversation with Jeff, but feels Jensen approaching and puts his arm around his shoulder without interrupting their talk.

“C’mon, you know her reputation.” Jeff says.

Party all night ski all day?” Jared answers. “She works hard at that. Guy she likes? He won't give her the time of day."

"Well then, he's a fool."

"Sometimes he really is, yeah." Jensen looks up to see Jared staring at Jeff like a kid waiting for an answer.

Jeff blinks twice then snorts as the penny drops. Jensen contains his laugh, but can't hide the grin, both of them are ignoring him.

"Jared, you have got to be kidding me."

"About?"

"About Genevieve."

"I don't kid about Genevieve. Girl has a gun and knows how to use it."

"She doesn't want me, Jared. She wants everyone."

"Right, because you're her shrink. Oh wait, I've met her shrink, you're not her."

"She has a shrink?"

"Jeff, half the guys on the team have them, see how oblivious you are? I'm just so awesomely well adjusted, I don't need one."


	13. Day 13

  
Zoe pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head. The daylight is starting to fade, and the crowd that's collecting at the sliding hill is raucous. She grins, happy that she's on the other side of the fence, happier still that the onlookers aren't driving themselves anywhere. Venue Buses were the only way to get into any of the facilities in Whistler. Some of them are probably drunk as skunks already. Beer sales, the vendors say, are booming.

At least none of the bobsledders are going to earn DUIs. She shivers like someone walked over her grave, and spares a thought to the girl luger who'd called that afternoon. Jensen had talked to her for almost twenty minutes, and then another twenty with David Knight, discussing everything she'd said about her prognosis, and the therapy she was going to need after. If she thought that Jensen would be her McSteamy, or whatever they called that television doctor that wasn't nearly as good looking as Jensen, she was sorely mistaken. She probably ought to have the hospital check her gaydar, unless the lack was a pre-existing condition.

She looks through the window to where her onsite desk is, not that she's ever at it. Just now, there are flowers there, an indulgence she really can't have in her regular office, too many patients had allergies, but the arrangement of roses and chrysanthemums has charmed her. She knows Jared meant to say thank you, even if it's such an extravagant arrangement, she feels like he's asking questions she doesn't have the right to answer.

She should give him the benefit of the doubt, her belief was that good people attracted good people, and his coach, he was good people.  She'd been at the top of the mountain when the police had taken his trainer away in handcuffs, and that man had looked miserable.  That man had asked her about Jensen,  and she started to tell him it was none of his damned business, but then she saw how he looked at Jared, like he was his own son.  Well, brother maybe, That man wasn't old enough to have a son that looked like Jared.  She'd told him that Jensen was driven, obsessive and an excellent physician.  That wasn't what he wanted to know.  She told him Jensen was a local, that everyone in town loved him, and that he climbed trees to save kittens.  That wasn't what he wanted to know either.  She'd shrugged then, what she wouldn't tell him was that Jensen was lonely, hadn't had a serious relationship since he moved to town ten years ago, wasn't carrying a torch, and had one of the best recipes for lasagna in BC.

She's known Jensen for almost ten years, but until today, she's never seen him daydream, staring into space with his thoughts a thousand miles away. Well, maybe about three miles away. On the way over to Alpine this morning, he had whistled some popular song. All day it's been "Jared this," and "Jared that," from him, and she wasn't sure of Jared yet. She thought she might have to put Jensen back together when he left after the Games, but he didn't seem worried about it. He’d do the same for her, had, in fact. She grimaced. She’d deal with it if the time came.

She squints up at the mountaintop. Surely Jared was on his way back down by now. It was time to shoo Jensen out the door; he had to learn how to turn down the responsibility gene he carried, remind him that the world doesn’t always sit on his shoulders. Or at least not just on his shoulders. She knows she's as bad as Jensen, always wanting to be on site, to see with her own eyes exactly what was going on. She laughs. She thinks she would like to see exactly what's going on at Jensen's, and feels like a dirty old lady just having the thought.


	14. Day 14

Jensen comes home after the Nordic session, looking forward to a night off.  He closes the door behind him, drops his keys on the side table and strips off his jacket. He sees Jared, dozing, with his head tipped back on the couch, and Jensen stops to drink in the sight.  His worn t-shirt is practically transparent, and his sweat pants ride low on his hips.  He's not sure why he has allowed the lanky skier past his carefully constructed walls, but he has, and Jensen feels a surge of something that makes his chest tighten.  Jared called it a beginning.  He sure hopes so. 

Jared opens his eyes and jumps to his feet. "Hi!"

"Hi."

"I, um..." Jared looks guarded, almost guilty.  "I did something, I hope it's okay."

Jensen tilts his head.  "What?"

"A surprise."  He tugs Jensen by the hand towards the bathroom, and motions at the switch, ducking his head. Jensen flips the first switch, and the fixtures around the tub light softly.

Jensen whoops and throws his arms around Jared.  "This is very okay.  I've been trying to get to it, and there was just no... Jare, thank you!"

"I had Chris come over this afternoon, and it didn't take him but an hour.  He really is an electrician, you know.  Licensed and everything."

"I'll write him a check." 

"Oh no," Jared says, "he owed me a favor." 

"Well then, thank you." He pulls Jared to him, and kisses him thoroughly. 

"Wow.  Got any other construction work needs doing?" teases Jared.

Jensen blushes, and flips the other switches.  Bright around the mirror, the dimmer working perfectly.  He sighs happily and starts the tub running.  "I've been thinking about this for weeks."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh no, that's not what I want.  There are other things I've been thinking about, just not as long."  He grins at Jared, pulling his sweater over his head and dropping it on the floor.  He thumbs open his fly, and Jared's eyes start to smolder.  "Strip." Jensen tells him, as he turns off the tub.

Jensen crosses the room while Jared's head is still caught up in his t-shirt, holding his hands above his head and effectively blindfolding him.  He finds Jared's mouth through the thin cotton and breathes into him.  Jared moans; trapped against him, Jensen can feel him harden. With his teeth, Jensen peels the neck of the shirt up, freeing Jared's lips, and he licks at them until Jared opens to him with a sigh.  He pushes Jared up against the vanity. He knows how the cold marble feels on heated flesh  He lets Jared's hands go, wondering what he'll do, as he runs his hands over his shoulders and back.  Jared keeps his arms folded over his head, and Jensen swirls his tongue over one nipple while he strokes the other to a dusky pebble. He slides the sweatpants off Jared's hips and holds them against he cold counter, pinning him there with his thighs.  He remembers what Jared said about his lips, and frees him from the shirt, looking into the storm tossed sea of his eyes.  Jared reaches for him, and Jensen puts his hands firmly on the counter.  "Let me," he murmurs into Jared's mouth.

Jensen licks his way down Jared's chest, stopping every few inches to bring a flush to the surface.  Tracing his fingers down the soft down below Jared's waist, he goes to his knees, swirling his tongue around the crown of his cock.  Jared gasps, and Jensen smiles, knowing Jared is watching, lips circling the head, his left hand finding its way between Jared's legs, caressing his sac.  Jensen is hard now himself, and looks up now, locking eyes with Jared as he slowly licks up the pulsing vein.  Jared is breathing hard, but he doesn't blink as Jensen begins a slow rhythm of suction and release, taking Jared just a little deeper with each breath.  He stills, letting his bottom teeth graze just below the crown, and Jared starts to shake.

He chokes out "Jensen!"', and Jensen swallows, milking Jared until he cuts off his own short noise of protest; the noise alone makes Jensen spend into his jeans. Jensen kisses back up his body, wiping his chin on the shoulder of his blue button-down, finally standing to pull Jared into his arms, head on Jensen's shoulder, until his breathing evens out.  "Okay?"

Jared nods, and Jensen pulls his feet from the sweats and steers him to the tub, sliding him over the edge.  Jared starts to say something and Jensen puts his index finger across his lips.  He strips off his own clothes, grimacing at the wet, and steps into the other end to sit facing Jared. 

"Tell me about you," asks Jared 

"Hmm?" 

"You just turned me inside out and I don't know anything about you, except that you're the hottest thing at the Games."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything.  Your favorite color, what made you choose medicine, how you came to live in Canada.  That'll do for a start."

Jensen shrugs. It's his life, he doesn't know any other and it's all old hat to him.  "I started out as a child."

"Thank you, Mr. Cosby." Jared laughs. 

"Well, I did," retorts Jensen, "I just don't remember it much, and there's my brother, I guess, but he was mostly gone already.  My sister Tam, she was a figure skater."  He looks up into Jared's undivided attention.  "She was a sweetheart, and I was the big brother.  We lived in Texas, outside of Dallas.  Week before I turned 17, Tam and my mom and dad were killed in a tornado, coming back from a meet."

Jared makes a noise, as if he's sorry he asked, but Jensen waves him off, settling deeper into the water. "I had to sell the house and finish school.  My friend Tom, I told you about Tom, right?  His parents let me move in with them so I didn't have to go into CPS or foster care.  My grades were good; I had a couple of scholarship offers, UCLA, for one, and UBC, in Vancouver.  Tom got an offer to be in a show that was filming here, so it was an easy call.  That's how I came to Vancouver." 

"Your brother?” asks Jared. 

"Lives in Paris.  He's an artist, a sculptor.  That bust in the living room?  That's how he remembers Tam."

 "But you don't?"

 "No, but he does, and it's beautiful.  We're not close.  He's almost ten years older than I am, and Paris was a long way from Texas."

 "Jen..."

 "It's okay. You hungry? I'm getting pruny."

 A quiet chuckle.  "I'm always ready to eat, Jen.  Hungry for you."

 Jensen's happy to hear it, but he needs to clear his head, and splashes out of the tub.  He grabs a towel, and dries off, feeling Jared's gaze.  He needs a minute, hasn't thought about any of this in a long time, and pulls on a pair of sweats that were on the towel rack.  He thinks they're his, though Jared's clothes have moved into his house as much as Jared has.

 Jared follows him to the kitchen, pulling on his own sweats as he goes, and Jensen points to a stool at the counter.  "Sit.  You're going to make some choices."  He opens the refrigerator and peers inside.  "We can have a steak.   Hmmm,  Salad, too, and baked potatoes."  He turns, and Jared is looking around the kitchen with a wistful expression.  It's too soon for him to ask what's on Jared's mind.  "We can have tapas, cheese and sausage and olives.  I have a nice bottle of wine..." 

 Jared still hasn't said anything.

 "Mac and cheese?"

 "Chris and I, we have a house.  In Park City," Jared begins.

 Jensen wonders where he's going with this, but lets the refrigerator door close and gives Jared his full attention. 

"If you come down, we could rent a different house.  Um... for you."

"Chris snores?"

"No, I just …  You’re a grown up and we … Chris has a chair, in the living room, it's made of comic book boxes and he has a contract with a local cleaning company and they come in when we leave and I make him pay for it and you don’t want to know that story, but trust me, there’s a very good reason why and don’t ever eat the man’s Captain Crunch and you…you aren’t a Cap’n Crunch kind of guy."

"No.  I used to be a Frosted Flakes guy, though."

Jared smiles softly and goes on.  "We trip over each other and that’s fine when it’s us, because it’s not like we're there for anything but skiing, well, and sometimes some other stuff, but … I just don’t see you balancing your smartphone on a milk crate."

"Not any more."

"Yeah"

Jensen thinks.  "Can you... Dinner can wait."  He reaches for a bottle of wine, then thinks better of it.  "Beer?"

"Sure."

He turns to the refrigerator and pulls out two beers, opens them, and carries them into the living room.

"Jen?"

"Come on."

Jensen sits on the couch and motions for Jared to join him, snagging him on the way down and swinging his legs over.  Jared's back rests on his chest; he's not ready for Jared to see what's in his eyes right now.

"Used ‘em as bookshelves," he says.

"What?"

"Milk crates, cinderblocks and one by twelve roughcuts. Med school. Bookshelves. Had a futon that was held together with duct tape.  Now I’m a grown up."

"Yeah."

"Matching towels give it away?

"No, the skylight in the bedroom, the cafe curtains in the kitchen.  Fuck, Jen, you have a LAUNDRY room."

"I do.  Your turn.  Life story."  He thinks it will be easier if he doesn't see Jared's face.  He's sure to hear about his lovers, his celebrity life in Europe.

"When I was a kid, we lived in Colorado.  M'dad's an attorney, and we all skied. I got pretty good at it, won a bunch of competitions for squirts."  He takes the last swallow of beer and swings his legs off the couch.  "You want another?"  Jensen holds up his empty in response.

Jared goes into the kitchen, and Jensen misses his warmth.  He's fallen fast and hard. Part of him, the part that records time of death and sees the heart as a pump, hopes he can put himself together again after Jared leaves.  He's got Zoe, got his work, and that’ll have to be enough; there's no telling his heart to rein it in. 

Jared comes back and nods at Jensen, who opens his arms.  Jared nestles into him, head tucked under Jensen's chin. 

He picks up the story,  "When I was fourteen, maybe fifteen, I fell for another guy.  Nothing came of it, not really, and I told my folks.  Told 'em I was gay."  He takes a shuddering breath.  "They were cool about it, loved me anyway, but a year later, when I said I wanted to ski for a living, turn pro, they freaked."  He takes a long swallow of beer, and settles back.  "Dad moved the family back to Texas, where he was from.  I sued for emancipation so I could stay, and I haven't," he shakes in Jensen's arms, "haven't seen them since." 

He puts his beer down, reaching for the table but never leaving Jensen's embrace. He wipes his eyes. "I met Chris, who had a place to stay, and I made some money teaching ski school, waited tables, enough to get by. I got better, and USSA recruited me into their development program and put me on the circuit.  When I was twenty, I won my first World Cup race, a slalom in Kitzbuhel.  It's all I know how to do, is ski, and I'm getting older. You know what happens to knees.  I can't do this forever.  I'll end up teaching, I guess. This Olympics will give me a couple more years for sure." 

Jensen presses a soft kiss onto Jared's head, arms around him.  They sit in silence, and Jensen shifts to pull the blanket off the back of the couch over them.


	15. Day 15

Jeff is about a half a block from Jensen's house when the Federal Express truck pulls up.  The driver gets out and carries several large envelopes to the door.  Jeff reaches into his breast pocket to be sure the one he's carrying is still there, and wonders what the chances are.  He nods at the man as he gets back into his truck and climbs the stairs, rings the bell.  Jensen pulls the door open in mid-sentence.  "..even if you bought all the Astroglide in town."

He colors to see Jeff, who can hear Jared whine, "But, Jen!"

Jensen never takes his eyes off Jeff.  "I said no, and I meant no, you have to ski tomorrow."

Jeff closes his eyes and says "Close the door and let me try this again."

Jared yells something else about a mattress that he can't quite hear and Jensen chokes with laughter, bantering back "Only if you get on the podium."

Jeff really doesn't want to know.

"Come in," says Jensen.  I guess you want Jare?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you."  He pulls the envelope out of his pocket, and adds it to the stack in Jensen's hands.  "I didn't think we'd be the only ones with this idea."

"I haven't opened them yet, how do you know what they are?"

"They're job offers, Jensen.  At least mine is.  I would guess some of those are, too."

Jensen looks surprised, and Jared comes into the foyer.  "Close the door, you're... Oh.  Hi, Jeff.  Jeff!  Are you going downtown?  I have a PT session, and then I have to go to the hill."  He's stepping into his boots and pulling an earflap hat on, shoving his arm into the sleeve of his Nike jacket.  Sensing he's in the middle of a conversation, he tips Jensen's head up for a quick kiss, and tells Jeff "I'll wait for you, uh... on the sidewalk."

Jensen looks fondly at Jared, but turns his attention back to Jeff.

"So, I got a budget for a doctor, and you were the best person I could think of for the job.  I had them draw up an offer, you'll probably want to look at it in writing."  Jeff sighs and gestures at the envelopes Jensen's holding.  "Likely outbid anyway."

"It's not about money, Jeff." says Jensen.  "I have a pretty good life here."

"I know.  I hope you'll consider all the offers."  He glances at Jared, who's making tiny snowmen on the lawn.  "He's a special one --"  Jensen cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"He's leaving me in three days, Jeff.  Please.  Just don't."

Jeff nods.  They've made their points.  He goes down the steps, bumps Jared's shoulder and they start to walk toward downtown.

"I've been thinking about what you said." Jeff begins.

"About?"

"About Genevieve."

"Ah.  So you were in the dark."

"How do you mean?"

"With lotion."

Jeff laughs aloud and bumps Jared again.  "Not like that, puppy."

"She's been my friend for years, Jeff.  She's not without some baggage, but she is one of my best friends."  He shrugs.  "I think you'd suit."

"I don't date, Jared.  I especially don't date athletes."

"Yup." says Jared.  "Funny that we're talking about her. It's almost like you conjured her out of thin air.  There she is."

Jared shouts, "Gen!" and the petite Frenchwoman sneaks a look at who is calling her from the corner of her eye.  Once she sees it's him, she crosses the street, and snuggles inside his coat for a hug.  Jared's hugs are the stuff of legend.

"I thought you would be with Jen."

"I was, but I had to come down to take care of some PT, and he was coming this way, so I walked with him, and we were gonna have lunch, and why don't you have it with us?"

"Jared, slow down!"

"Non, ma petite choux, you have to keep up!"

Genevieve laughs, and takes two steps to each of Jared's until they catch up to Jeff.  Gen stiffens.  "I thought you meant Jen," she hisses.

"I'm sure I said Jeff.  Really, you're not gonna duck out are you?"

"I vow revenge, Jared.  Do not think for one moment this is forgotten."

"You'll thank me one day."

Jeff can hear the entire exchange, and he's sure Jared is wrong, Gen not only isn't interested, she pretty much doesn't like him at all.

They walk down the main street, past Araxi, where a dark haired man in checked pants and chef's whites stands outside smoking a cigarette.  He sees them and smiles.  "Jared!"

"Hi, Dave!"

"Coming for dinner tonight?  We're not open yet, and we're booked solid, but we can get you and the doc in, I promise."

"Nah, I have a race tomorrow.  Dave, this is my friend Gen, Genevieve Cortese, Olympic medalist in biathlon."

"We watched you!  Great shooting."

"Merci!  Dave... Dave, you look familiar."

Jared laughs.  "Hell's Kitchen.  Jen and I had dinner here the other night."

Gen squeals.  "Yes, that's it!"

"You should taste what he does with fois gras."

Jeff is taken aback.  "I love fois gras."

"You do?" asks Gen.

Jeff nods.

"There was this place in Chamonix --"

"Oh yes, "Gen says excitedly.  "That is Monique's cousin's restaurant."

She and Jeff start talking about food, restaurants they've eaten in, and he sees Jared smile and poke Dave.  "That's Jeff Morgan," he says, "my coach."

"You know," drawls Dave, "I could rustle you up some fois gras, if you wanted."

"Jared," Jeff says.  "You're going to be late.  Scram."

Jared nods and looks at Gen.

"It will be alright, Jared.  You go on, and bon chance tomorrow.  I will be in the stands."

Jared picks her off the ground in a hug, and puts her down carefully.  He looks at Jeff, who offers her his arm.  "Lunch, mademoiselle?"

"I would like that."

  
Jeff changes into ski clothes and catches the shuttle up the mountain for the last practice of the day. He has three skiers on two slalom runs tomorrow, and then his Olympics are over, and in a few weeks, after the World Cup season wraps up, the business of assembling a team for Sochi in 2014 begins. He wonders if young Dr. Ackles will be part of his team.  Time will tell, he figures.

Jared is in the tuner's shed, done skiing for the day, and winks at Jeff, tapping his phone.  Of course he's already talked to Gen.  Jeff wonders how long it will be before he breaks his rule, more like a guideline, actually, and asks her out.


	16. Day 16

  


Jared is built to ski the slalom.  Every slight twist of his hips clears another gate, his well-muscled arms push them out of the way, let him ski the right line, generate more speed.  He's already had one run today, this will be the last one of the Whistler Olympics.  That might be important someday, but today his goal is the podium.

He knows he's done it when he crosses the line.  He doesn't need to see the time.  He's won the slalom, he's won gold, he's on the podium, and Jensen was just going to have to keep that promise.

Jeff's there shouting and pummeling him on the back, but he hasn't stopped looking at Jensen since he found him in the crowd.  Jensen beams and pumps his fist, Chris pounds Jen on the back and Gen stands between them, kissing them, kissing everyone in her reach.  Surprisingly, Jeff is in her reach.  Jared files that away for another time.

He looks away then, poses for the cameras, for his sponsors, with Jeff, with the other medalists and then he has a moment to walk behind the banners and pull Jen into a fierce hug.  Jared kisses him with his whole heart gets it back doubled.  He tips his head back and gives a wordless shout.  At this moment, he has everything.  He looks at Jen, drops his head onto his shoulder, and where the hell did tears come from?

He has to go, the coaches are pulling him back, he has to go talk to people, to be photographed, to stand on the podium.  "Later," he says.

"Later." Jen agrees, and there are tears in his eyes, too.

 

Jared is so ready for this part of the night to be over.  He's sent Zoe the bottle of champagne the French team pressed on him, for taking the sliding venue this night, and while Jen was on call, he was still within reach.  Jeff waves them into the car, standing on the curb with Chris and Gen, and a crowd of people Jared doesn't even remember meeting.  Jen looks shell shocked; Jared is used to the circus of makeup and interviews, green rooms and autographs, but it's all new to Jen.  Jared tugs him close, and unfalteringly gives the driver his destination, Jen's house, home.

When the door is closed and locked behind them, Jared strides through the house closing curtains and pulling blinds.  Jen gives him the lead and waits.  Jared starts to shed his clothes as he stalks towards Jensen. He stops in front of him, sliding his hand under Jensen's sweater, stripping it over his head.

"What--"

"Jeff made me promise to be low key, keep the press out of it, to keep them from peeking in the kitchen window."

"My kitchen window?" asks Jensen

"I think," Jared says, unbuttoning Jen's shirt, "he meant it metaphorically.  To act, oh fuck, what'd he say, 'hetrero-normative'."

Jen gasps as Jared's thumbs find his nipples, and Jared looks down , pleased as he can be that Jen's rock hard.  Jen stands absolutely still while Jared strips him naked in the middle of the living room, then picks him up in a fireman's carry, making for the bedroom.

"I am just not that much of a team player." He drops Jen onto the bed and kneels next to him, stroking his erection with one firm hand, the other fumbling for his fly.

Jensen reaches in and undoes the button, sliding the zipper down and cupping Jared through his briefs.

Smiling, Jared pushes his jeans and briefs down over his lean hips, looking pointedly at the bedside table, where Zoe's ribbon of condoms is tied around Jared's medal stand bouquet, in a blue vase this time, with a tube in the middle of the arrangement.

Jensen laughs.

"I swear," Jared leers, "they were that way when I brought them home."

He kisses up Jen's thigh, licking and sucking until he makes him writhes and moans, clutching at Jared's shoulder, fingers buried in his hair, a stream of nonsense words spilling from his lips.  Jared hollows his cheeks, and never stops working his tongue until Jen arches, and with a shout, spills into Jared's mouth.

"Jare--" rasps Jensen in the darkness.

"Shhhh," Jared murmurs, as he gently mouths his way back to Jen's lips.

For a few minutes, they lie in the dark, Jen's breathing settling back to normal against Jared's chest. Jen's right arm lets go, and Jared hears fumbling and the clicking of small objects.  "What're you doing?"

"Trying to find the remote."

Jared is taken aback, Jen wants the tv on?  Then there's a soft click and a whooshing noise as the fireplace Jared thought was decorative licks slowly into life; he hears the thump of something falling.

"I want to see you, Jare.  I want to see how you look while I do this," he dips his head and nips at the edge of Jared's collar bone.  Jared inhales sharply, and Jen looks up, his eyes are dark, filled with something Jared can't put a name to, and he can't look away.  Jen soothes the spot with a kiss, and then works it, marking him in a place that won't be seen, but it will rub against Jared's shirt once he's dressed.  He breaks off to pull Jared's shoulders up off the bed, piling up the pillows behind and lowering him back down.  "You looked like you wanted to see, too."  he says seductively.  Jared can't think of anything hotter, and his cock twitches in agreement.

Jen's hands are on his biceps, not restraining him, but directing him to stay still, as he explores down Jared's side, taking his time, licking the hollows between his ribs.  Jared feels like  
his skin might be shrinking, and he can hear his own pulse.  Jen licks across his belly, breathing warm air after and Jared shivers as Jen licks back up the other side.

"So hot, Jare.  Making me hard all over again with the way you react to me."  Featherlight fingers trace down Jared's hips, the fronts of his thighs, and Jen's licking at the insides and Jared's thighs fall open, and he was wrong before, there isn't anything hotter than this.  Jared wants Jen's lips around his cock, he's wanted that since he first saw him, and never mind how many times he's already had that, it doesn't get old.

Jen's fingers dig into his quads, they're still sore from the slalom today, and sensation of hard fingers and soft kisses is making his cock weep in anticipation.  The hands travel around to Jared's back, digging up into the muscles there.  "So tight.  I'll bet you're just as tight inside, and I'll bet I can do something for that.

Jared's never considered how Jen's knowledge of anatomy might come into play during sex, and when he pushes there, and here, Jared's back gives its own sigh of pleasure.

"Good, Jare.  Let it go.  I'm going to make it good for you, just relax."

"Trust you, Jen.  You'd never hurt me."

Jen's fingers dig into his thighs, thumbs drilling hard into the back of them and Jared bends at the knees, feet flat on the bed.

"That's it, let those muscles loosen, good, good."

Jared feels Jen's weight shift, and his left hand lets go, to reach for the nightstand.  Jared reaches over, in a better position, and hands him the tube he's looking for, after flipping open the top.

Jen smiles softly, and pulls another pillow across the bed, slipping it under Jared's hips. His cock is standing straight up, away from his body, and Jen hasn't even touched it yet.

Those beautiful lips turn into a frown.  "You're still pink, swollen, are you sore?  Should I stop?"

"You promised."

"I did, but you're right to think I'll never hurt you."

"Want you Jen, want this."

Jen nods.  "If..."

"Jen."

His thigh muscles are so relaxed, and Jen's warmed the lube so well that Jared almost doesn't feel the first touches of Jen's thumbs swirling the gel into his tenderest spots.  Jared can't believe it, can't believe he's bottoming - he just doesn't do it - but it feels so right with Jen, he can't imagine it any other way.  Softly, gently he feels Jen working him open, and then, his head dips, and that beautiful warm, wet mouth closes on the tip of his cock.  He gasps at the sensation, and Jen slips a finger in while he's reveling in it.

Gently, gently, taking his time, Jen's hands are on, hell, _in_ his ass, and his mouth is on his cock and the world narrows to Jen, sensation, and remembering to breathe.  Jared squirms, clenching against Jen's fingers, and Jen draws off Jared's cock so slowly, his eyes dark and his mouth wet, and there's cold air where he's been so warm before, and Jen's fingers twist and there's nothing Jared can do but toss his head back and forth, clenching at the sheet under his fingers, that sharp spike of pleasure taking his ability to speak.

He opens his eyes to see Jen ripping open a foil packet. He's so hard the condom goes on easily with one hand. Jen trades Jared one fullness for another, and there's that spark again. Jen's moving carefully, his hands are strong on Jared's hips and he starts to speak and Jared focuses on the words, as he pants and scoots down so he can be closer, get more, surround Jen, who is right where Jared wants him.

"So good.  Been thinking about this since you came down the hill.  Watched you ski, watched your hips, thought about you under me, what each twist would feel like while I was in you."

Jared hears him, knows he's trying to hold off his climax by talking but he wants to take Jen on that ride with him, and lets his muscle memory take over, skiing this morning's slalom course, seeing the last of the iris retreat from Jen's pupils as his thrusts grow less gentle, and there are stars and wet and shouting and then there is nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing.  He was wrong again, Jared thinks, when blood starts to reach his brain again.  It's Jen, it's what Jen does to him that's the hottest thing ever.

  
Later in the firelight, Jared lies on his side and watches the flickering flames.

"Jen?"

"Mmm?"

"I have a couple more world cup races this season."

"Yeah?"

"The final is in Garmisch-Partenkirchen in March.  The tenth.""

"Uh huh?"

"Do you think... would you come?  I'll fly you out."

"Jare ..."

"I'd really like it.   I... Jen, I don't want to lose this, lose you."

Jensen props himself up on one elbow, and looks down at Jared.  The flickering light picks out the angles of his body, and Jared thinks it's the most beautiful thing his ever seen.  "We never talked about what's next."

"I'm hoping it's what happens after the beginning, Jen." He stops.  Maybe Jen doesn't want this.

"I could..."  Jensen drawls, like he's deciding.

"You can stay with me." Jared says eagerly, "I have an apartment in Garmisch."

You have an apartment in Gar.. where?

It's in Germany.

Okay.  An apartment?

I only use it when we're competing there, otherwise the rental company handles it.

Jensen tips his head.  "You rent an apartment in Garmisch?

Well, no.  I own it.  Actually, I own the building.  I used to stay there, when Frau Meier owned it, but when she wanted to sell, I bought the place."

"You own an apartment house in Germany."

Um.  Yeah.  I, uh, own the house in Park City, and I have one in Chamonix, in France, too.  Gen's friend Monique?  Her cousin has a restaurant on the ground floor.  I'll have to take you to eat there."

"Look at you. I bet you kick ass at Monopoly!"

"So, will you come?  It's kind of Spartan, and it needs a better bed, a bed like this one, because now it's like a rental --"

"So, get you a bed, do some decorating."

Jared hovers over Jen's mouth.  "You are so very gay."  He leans in for a kiss.

"Complaining?" asks Jen, stretching like a cat.

"Actually, I thought we could go again." 


	17. Day 17

Jensen slips out of bed and commits the sight to memory. He thinks memory is enough, but visual aids are helpful, and shoots a picture with his phone before tossing it back to the carpet. He is officially off duty.

The electrical work Chris did has made his steam shower usable, and he stands in the glass enclosure with water spraying at him from four directions. If he thinks about tomorrow, about Jared getting on a plane and leaving, he'll fly apart, so he doesn't think, just lets the water pound out the aches. He lets the spray make up for the lack of sleep, and when he soaps up he has company. Jared's big, but he takes up more room in the shower than any one person possibly can. Jensen thinks he's taken up that room in his heart, too, and wonders if all the kings horses and the all king's men live in Canada now, and if they've learned to do their job better.

"Why are you up?" asks Jared.

"Thinking too hard."

"Come back to bed."

Jensen laughs openly. "If you're walking comfortably by the time we get to Vancouver, I didn't make you happy enough last night."

Jare looks rueful. "Okay, maybe I'm a little tender."

"Oh, Jare. I didn't--"

Jared cuts him off with a kiss, and Jensen slips out of the shower. Jared's head pops out like a damned gopher, and Jensen grins at the sight.

"Jen?"

"Yes, by all means. Take a long soak. I'll be in the kitchen."

When Jared comes into the kitchen, a pair of sweats low on his hips and something in his hand, Jensen looks, but can't tell whose they are, not that it matters one bit. Jared sits carefully at the counter, and Jensen places a cup of coffee in front of him, earning an appreciative groan. Jared tips his head forward to breathe in the steam.

"It's the thing I miss most when I'm racing."

Jen nods and pours himself a cup.

"Jen?"

He looks up, and Jare looks serious and sad. Here it comes, he thinks, conversations in the dark were one thing, but with daylight came reality. Jen wonders if there's enough liquor in the house if Jared says he still wants to be friends.

"I meant what I said last night. I want more nights with you, more days."

Jensen doesn't say anything, but allows himself a tiny bit of hope. He sits at the counter with Jared and his own coffee. Jared slides what he's been holding across the marble to Jensen. "Your key."

Jared looks devastated, and it finally dawns on Jensen that he's not saying goodbye, that he wasn't any more sure than Jensen was about the future. Jared's eyes are wide when Jensen slides the key back across the counter. "That's your key, Jare. Whenever you want to use it. I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't want you to keep it."

They drink their coffee in silence - it's just too big to get words around - and Jared covers Jensen's hand with his own. Jensen looks into Jared's eyes, "It hasn't even been two weeks, Jare, but you told me... you told me I could have this if I wanted it." He turns his hand over and twines his fingers with Jared's.

"Yours, if you want it." agrees Jared, very quietly.

"Want it."

"I would carry you back to bed if I thought my legs would hold me." says Jared, in that low voice that makes all the blood rush to Jensen's groin.

Jen stands and cups Jared's chin in his hand. Their phones ring, and Jensen smiles softly, "It's always something."

Jared turns his head into Jensen's hand and places a gentle kiss into his palm. "I'll get dressed. We have to go soon."

Jensen nods and looks at the counter. The key is gone, and his grin goes from ear to ear.

  
Jared rides to closing ceremonies on the bus with the rest of the Alpine team, and Jensen drives down with Zoe, representing Medical Services. The flagbearers walk in, chosen by their country's athletes, and then the athletes, all together with no formal national divisions. The volunteers that aren't still working line the arena, and in the blink of an eye, the Vancouver Games are declared "Excellent, and very friendly" and the Flame is extinguished.

VACOM has quite a party planned, and the athletes and volunteers mingle, dancing and celebrating, and Jensen watches Jared from the sidelines, easy to spot in his earflap hat. He's patting the one he has in his pocket to be sure it's still there, when Chris walks up to him, smiling broadly. "S'great, isn't it?"

Jensen nods, and Jared's on the big screen. The sight of him takes Jensen's breath away, and Chris pokes him in the shoulder. "Lookit! I didn't think he'd do it!" Jared's wearing his medals, but another ribbon peeks through. Chris points, "Look there, at the medals. He figures he won that at the Olympics, too." Jensen recognizes it as an "I love Whistler" souvenir lanyard, and damned if that isn't his house key displayed as if it was a prize. Chris claps him on the back, and he starts to breathe again. "Looks like you won, too, doc."

His phone vibrates, and he pulls it out to look when Gen slips under his arm on the opposite side. She never lets go of Jeff's hand when she's kissing Jensen hello, and peering at the e-ticket confirmation displayed on his phone. She squeals with delight. "Did you get the train? The train from Munich to Garmisch is great. Oh Jen, he has to get a new bed!"

Then Jared is walking toward him, and even though the fireworks haven't started yet, Jensen can see them in Jared's eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge, to write a part of this story each day of the actual Olympic Games. Forever in my head as 17 Deadlines, it is unbetaed, rushed, and intended as a snapshot of that process so I am reminded edits and betas are good and useful things.


End file.
